The Stars Have All Gone Out
by Forevernotagrownup
Summary: What started out as an uneventful negotiation mission has now turned into a nightmare no one saw coming. Can Captain Kirk and his crew find a way to save not only the Enterprise, but everyone on board? Or will time run out, leaving only one option, one sacrifice, that could cause the bridge crew family to lose their youngest member forever...
1. Chapter 1

Diplomacy was one of the most taxing occupations in Kirk's mind. Physically? Well no, not physically. But mentally? Without a doubt, yes. Peace negotiation missions always bored Kirk, and finding out they were the objective of the _Enterprise's_ next assignment could have made him pull his hair out. In the 5 months since the Narada incident, each incoming mission transmission only followed the pattern of getting Kirk's hopes up, only to smash them as it turned into just another diplomatic incident that came with hours of monotone, pre-written speeches, and the same Federation-standard negotiation terms every Starfleet captain was made to recite. Lord if he could just get back into the heat of an exciting mission, then maybe he wouldn't have to stay aboard the damned bridge bored out of his mind.

"Estimated arriwal time to Klingon base in tvelve minoots, keptin," Chekov recited as he turned round after calculating the ship's destination time since engaging warp speed. "All systems normal". The pensive captain was crudely retrieved from his day-dreaming as he acknowledged the ensign.

"Very good, Mr. Chekov. Maintain current speed". Kirk considered increasing warp to get there faster. After all, the sooner they got there, the sooner it would be over. But he decided against it. He wouldn't be able to stand a minute more than he had to be cooped up inside the bridge, no matter how much he loved his ship. He silently thanked whatever god was out there that he was part of the away team and he'd be able to take a break and stretch his legs on the base they were approaching, even if it meant he'd have to spend four hours talking with stiff politicians who could care less that a Starfleet captain was the one they were addressing. Kirk wondered if anyone really enjoyed these diplomatic missions, or if everyone would just be better off not having to deal with them. At least he'd have people to be miserable with.

Kirk recalled Bone's groan of discontent after being told he'd be part of the away team. He didn't really have a choice. A medical officer was requested to tend to the injured that lay waiting in the medical wing of the Klingon base, and a good Federation captain _certainly _couldn't refuse such a request. And who better to tend to the sick than their very capable CMO? Besides, Bones had been spending too much time by himself anyway. He barely left the cave that was med bay as it was. He could use a little time off the ship, Kirk mused with a smirk.

Spock had remained indifferent, as always. It was a bit of an unspoken rule by now that he would attend away missions when the Captain was to be leading them. Kirk needed someone to make sure he didn't get himself killed, and the responsibility fell to Spock on most missions. Not to mention he also needed his First Officer's advice. If anyone could change that stubborn captain's opinion on anything, it was that green-blooded Vulcan who stood by his side through thick and thin. Sometimes the Captain needed logical reasoning to keep his head and temper from boiling over.

Chekov was by far the most excited of everyone. It was to be his first away mission and he couldn't have been more thrilled when he was asked to come along. Kirk had always been hesitant on allowing the young ensign to attend any away missions, mostly because of McCoy's pestering about "Seventeen being too damn young to go on some convoluted and dangerous space adventure". Not that there had been many of those, but Bones still constantly reminded him about it. Kirk guessed he understood where the stubborn doctor was coming from. Kirk never doubted Chekov's intelligence. Not since the incident on Vulcan where he saved not only the captain's life but also Sulu's with his last-minute calculations did Kirk ever question the boy's decisions. But he was still very young, especially to be the chief navigator on a Starfleet vessel. He was the youngest member of their bridge family, in fact, and most had taken to treating him like a little brother. Even Kirk had to admit it was nice to have a brother with whom he could talk to, embarrass, and play pranks with. Chekov had begged to go on countless away missions before, only to be shut down each time with a hesitant 'no'. Now Kirk could practically see the kid vibrating in his seat from excitement. Kirk just shook his head and smiled.

"Captain we have an incoming transmission from the Klingon base," Uhura called from behind him. Kirk swiveled in his seat to face his communications officer.

"Receive transmission, Lieutenant," Kirk responded. Finally, something to distract his wondering mind. As Uhura nodded in response and began to patch through the incoming message, Kirk's mind recalled what he was intended to say in approaching the base. The _Enterprise _had been assigned to make peace negotiations with a local Klingon colony that had volunteered its willingness to become allies. They intended to send an ambassador to meet with a team at a base orbiting the planet that hosted the inhabitants. The Federation's recent connections with the Klingon Empire were rocky at best, so Kirk wasn't all that surprised when Starfleet nearly jumped at the chance to make good negotiations with it.

The signal was patched through to the screen display in front of the bridge and an exhale of disbelief sounded throughout the area as the image began its broadcast. The Klingon ambassador Tavana, whom the away team was supposed to be meeting with in only a matter of minutes, was being held at disruptor-point by a masked figure. The ambassador seemed unphased and regal in posture, almost as if a finger wasn't hovering over the trigger that could end her life.

"Greetings and warm welcomes to the crew of the starship _Enterprise_," a coarse and thick voice spoke with no warmth or friendliness. "I do hope I've taken hold of your attention for the time being". The hooded figure pressed the disruptor further into the side of the ambassador, causing her to wince just in the slightest.

"This is James T. Kirk, Captain of the starship _Enterprise _of the Starfleet Federation. You are threatening the life of an Ambassador of the Klingon Empire and I demand you reveal yourself," Kirk said with all the confidence of a respectable officer.

The masked figure removed its hood. He looked to be a normal Klingon, no major difference between him and the one he was now holding hostage. He chuckled darkly. "Captain I don't believe you're in any position to be making demands. You see, I'm in control here, and you're not. So I suggest you reign in that superior ego of yours before it gets you and your ship into more trouble than you're bound to be able to handle."

Kirk straightened his back and tilted his chin forward ever-so slightly. "Excuse me for asking, but are you aware, exactly, of who you're currently engaging yourself with?"

"Oh yes," The man rolled sarcastically, "I've heard of you, James Kirk. Prodigal son of Starfleet turned hero through a series of events that led to the destruction of the Narada vessel. Now intended to be the bridge between and unimportant Klingon colony and the scum of the Federation".

"No need for formal introductions then, I suppose," Kirk retorted, making the other man sneer in hatred, his eyes seething with rage. "Although, it would be nice to know who I'm speaking with". He looked towards the communications screen, eyebrows risen smugly, waiting for a response.

The Klingon man looked all but ready to fire his disruptor. Some aboard the bridge who were not too familiar with the Captain's ego and negotiating skills questioned if he knew what he was getting himself into. Kirk simply stood there, arms crossed and waiting for a response.

The man gritted his teeth in anger. "I suppose I do owe you the pleasure of an introduction. Though if you don't mind your tongue it may be the last one you ever have". His finger wavered over the disruptor's trigger as he jabbed the ambassador's side with the barrel. "Besides, you wouldn't want to start a war over the death of an ambassador all because you weren't able to keep your childish mouth shut," he spat.

Kirk's eyes narrowed as he calculated what to do next. This guy clearly wasn't playing around, and he clearly wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing, and the consequences his actions would cause. Kirk took in a breath to level his head.

"Alright, Alright," he held his hands up in defense. "You're right. Let's try this again. I'm Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. And you are?"

The Klingon's lip curled in disgust. "I am called Gi'ral. I lead and represent the resistance group Torghn. Our mission is to purify the Klingon culture of undesirables, most of all humans. The mixing of societies is weakening our race. Ever since the Federation decided to impose itself upon our ways, chaos and death are all that have resulted. We do not need the weakling scum of the galaxy attempting to make amends."

Kirk's mind wandered back to reports he'd read earlier that week; Starships travelling into Klingon territory that were declared missing until they were found in pieces with no survivors. And the recent attacks on several Federation bases stationed on planets surrounding Qo'nos…something about a nationalist group hell bent on destruction. The familiar feeling of worry began to creep into his spine as he began to latch the puzzle pieces together and remembered that they themselves were a starship currently in Klingon territory. He only hoped they wouldn't have to be declared missing. The end result was always the same when the ships were found…

"The Federation only wishes peace on all alien races," Kirk now spoke calmly and evenly, knowing full well that he was treading on thin ice with every word he said.

"Peace," Gi'ral scoffed, "you talk of peace when so many have died as a result of the Federation's actions. You intend to lay waste to our society".

"You talk about actions causing death. Have you so soon forgotten the lives lost after your attacks on Starfleet bases?" Kirk asked pointedly.

Gi'ral sneered. "Pathetic colonies staining the culture we've spent centuries building up. They deserved every deed done".

Kirk's eyes blazed. "Those were good men and women with families of their own! You took their lives in cold blood! You murdered them!"

"Enough with these accusations!" Gi'ral growled. "My patience is wearing thin, Captain Kirk. I suggest you listen closely to what I'm about to say next. It could depend on whether you leave here alive." The man looked to his right off screen and spoke a few hushed words barely audible to those aboard the bridge. He nodded and turned back.

Suddenly, the entire ship lurched forward. Kirk felt himself thrown to the ground from the sheer force of whatever hit they'd taken. His quick reflexes saved him from any concerning damage, though damned if his wrist wasn't going to be sore tomorrow. The ship shuttered and groaned as it screeched to an agonizing halt. It would have felt like an earthquake had they been on solid ground. A few more people hit the deck as the _Enterprise_ continued to throw its passengers in every direction as it rocked with remarkable force. Kirk pulled himself to his knees as he grasped onto the navigation console. He held tightly to the corner of the system as the shaking began to lessen. A few more slight lurches and the ship became eerily still. Waiting a few moments to be sure there would be no more simulated seismic activity, Kirk carefully got to his feet.

"Is everyone alright?"

A chorus of groans and half-enthusiastic "yes's" sounded off in response.

"Sulu, can you tell me what the hell just happened?" Kirk asked incredulously.

Sulu pulled himself back into his seat, as he had fallen from it during the worst of the shaking. He pulled up a map of the ship and began typing away at his computer. He sat back for a moment in awe.

"Sulu?" Kirk asked as he walked over to where the young man sat. "What did you find? What's wrong?"

Sulu shook his head in disbelief. "That's just it, sir. I didn't find anything. Shields are at zero percent, but we didn't even take a hit. We're also completely disabled as far as our engines go. We dropped out of warp and stopped pretty quickly. Must have been what caused the ship to go nuts".

Kirk swiped a hand over his face. Great. Shields were gone and they were sitting ducks with no way of getting anywhere. He slapped a hand on Sulu's shoulder. "See if you can't find a way to redirect some power to the shield's reserve. I'll call down to Scotty and see how things are down in engineering".

"Aye, sir," Sulu nodded. "Though I would be careful, Captain. After something like that happening to his ship, I doubt Scotty's going to be in the best of moods".

Kirk ran towards the transmitter on the wall that connected the bridge to engineering. "Kirk to Scotty," he said. There was no answer after a beat and he tried again. "Bridge to Scotty, do you read me?" Still no answer. He was about to try for a third time when the speaker crackled to life and he heard a distant garble of angry Scottish.

"Uh-uh, Mr. Scott is currently in a, uh, a bit of a jam with the warp core," an unfamiliar voice answered. "I'm, uh, I'm afraid he can't reach the speaker right now, Captain. Can I pass on a message?"

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Of course it had to be warp core. He lightly banged his fist against the wall. "Never mind a message," he said. "Just tell Mr. Scott to contact me as soon as he figures out what caused the damage."

"Yes, Captain, I'll be sure to-"

"Captain Kirk, are you there. I do hope we didn't lose contact," a smug voice protruded from the speakers of the communications screen. Kirk breathed out in frustration as he stormed back towards the con.

"You mind telling me what the hell you did to my ship?" He all but yelled. Gi'ral laughed eerily, the cackling echoed over the bridge as he took in a breath to speak.

"Just a precaution, Captain. Can't have you running off before I issue my demands, now can I?"

Kirk wavered. "Demands," he repeated hesitantly. "What demands did you have in mind?"

The smile Gi'ral donned creeped the hell out of Kirk. He looked like some demented kid on Christmas morning.

"My demands are simple. I won't waste time playing games, as I'm not a very patient man. I want the coordinates to the location of the Starfleet Federation Base," He spoke calmly.

Kirk let that request wash over him for a minute as he repeated it over in his head. _Coordinates to the Federation Base? Was he insane? _Kirk knew instantly that from the track record the Klingon man's terrorist group had, he didn't want the coordinates to drop by the base to say hi. Giving him the location would doom the base and everyone on it.

"For what intended purpose do you want said coordinates," Kirk inquired. To his left Spock, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet until this point, stepped forward, hands grasped firmly behind his back.

"Captain, although the situation at hand is rather precarious, I must ask as to what you mean to gain by inquiring every part of this man's intended actions," He said low and evenly.

"We need time, Spock," Kirk answered. "This guy obviously has a vendetta against the Federation and until we can figure out just what he's capable of, we need to distract him long enough to get word back to Starfleet".

Either Kirk was truly awful at keeping a low voice or the Klingon man before them had incredible hearing because he interrupted once more before Spock could reply to Kirk.

"I do hope you weren't actually set on getting word back to your superiors, Captain. I may have forgotten to mention that along with the force field, there's also an interruption of long distance communication. You'd be lucky to get a signal to last more than 5 minutes at this point".

"Force field," Kirk looked to Spock, whose eyebrows were now creased in thought. "What are you talking about? What force field?"

Gi'ral rolled his eyes. "Come now, Captain, you seemed brighter than this. What do you think made your ship come to such and abrupt halt? You certainly didn't achieve that on your own. Your entire ship is now stationary inside a gravitational force field. I'm afraid there's no leaving now unless I give the word".

Kirk looked to Sulu, who was typing away furiously at his computer. "I'm afraid he's right, sir. It explains why our shields were penetrated without so much as a single hit. And why we're currently at a standstill with no engine power".

Gi'ral nodded in agreement. "So you see, Captain. Now I truly am in control. I would like those coordinates so we can be on our way. And once our business is taken care of, you and your ship can leave without any other problems".

Kirk weighed his options. Man, were they in some deep trouble now. He couldn't exactly command a ship to move that was stationary in the middle of space. This Klingon had a wolf by the ears and Kirk knew he was on the losing side of the battle they now fought.

His back straightened as he now tried to look as intimidating as possible. "I apologize, sir, but I can't exactly just willingly give out the location of Starfleet's most secure, most armed, may I remind you, base to just anyone." Kirk hoped he'd made the right decision by deciding to stall more. If they could just wait a little longer, maybe they could find a signal to contact Starfleet…

Turns out Gi'ral was true to his promise of not being a patient man. He rolled his eyes and reached forward towards a console while still keeping a hand on the disruptor that held the ambassador in place.

"No it seems I'm the one who must be in apology, Captain. You see, as I said before, my patience is wearing thin, and I don't have time for your games," He said as he continued to type away at a keyboard.

"Your actions will start a war," Kirk tried to reason. "The only spoils of your intentions will be death and chaos. The very things you claim you try and prevent".

"I never said I cared for the death of humans, Captain. Only my people. Your species can rot for all I could concern myself with. Now I really didn't count on your cooperation to begin with. I think you should listen closely now though, this part I think you'll really enjoy," Gi'ral explained carefully. Kirk's brow creased in concern. Whatever was coming did not sound good.

"On this base is an extraordinary mass of weapons pointed towards your ship. I can promise you that, once fired, there's no stopping the complete annihilation of your entire vessel and everyone on board. So the way I see it, Captain, is you can put aside the pathetic code of ethics your feeble-minded Federation enforces and willingly give me the coordinates, or I can lock on right now, blow your ship out of existence, and find another Starfleet vessel more cooperative in giving me what I want. You have until the end of the hour, Captain Kirk. Don't disappoint me".

Gi'ral stared for a moment more and then the transmission went black.


	2. Chapter 2

The entire bridge sat in silence for a few moments, not a soul dare speak as the bolded red words "Transmission Ended" flashed on the communication screen. It took Kirk a moment to collect himself as he still stood in front of his chair, fists clenched firmly at his sides so tightly that his knuckles were nearly white. _Until the end of the hour_. The words freshly echoed in his head as he glanced at the navigation console. They had a little more than 45 minutes to make a choice before the _Enterprise_ would be locked on and destroyed.

_Just like all those other ships, _Kirk's mind recalled. So many ships, so many _people_ just…gone. Obliterated. Eradicated. _Murdered_. Kirk looked around the bridge, meeting the faces of his crew members, the people whose lives he swore to protect with his dying breath. Each person was staring at him, waiting; probably expecting him to leap into hero mode and find some insane, unorthodox way to save his ship and everyone on it. He was James T. Kirk, son of George Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise, _leader of the mission that stopped Nero and his war machine; he'd be able to get them out of this, right? He would put a stop to the terrorist group that now held them all hostage and get his crew to safety. After all, there's no such thing as a no-win scenario.

Kirk remembered the carefully chosen words he'd given as an excuse to the counsel that day after cheating the "unwinnable" Kobayashi Maru. It was like his belief system at this point; the belief that there would always, no matter what the cause, no matter what the odds, be a way to win. There was always a choice. Kirk had confidence in that statement.

Now he had a choice. It was just that deciding what he'd choose was what had him currently standing aboard the bridge, staring out towards the Klingon base that had the fire power to blow his beloved ship to pieces. Hell would freeze over before he'd let that happen, Kirk decided. With that thought in mind, his head snapped towards Uhura, who was waiting patiently at her station, as if anticipating her captain's orders.

"Uhura, try and see if you can find some sort of signal that we can patch through to get to Starfleet command. I know what he said about disruption, but it's worth a shot. We need to let them know what's happening and find out if there's a way to shut down the weapons". Kirk had switched into full-on command mode. He'd be damned if he let anything happen to this ship and its people.

Uhura smiled at her Captain's confidence in the face of unfavorable odds. "Aye, sir. I'll see what I can do," she nodded, before turning round in her seat to begin searching for some kind of signal.

"Sulu, any progress with the shields?"

"Not yet, sir. But I think I can try and pull some power from the main reserve to try and get them in some form of working order. It's a long shot, and it may only get them to at max thirty percent, but like you said, it's worth a shot," Sulu said hopefully as he tapped away on the console.

Kirk smiled and slapped him on the back. "That's my man". He stood up and faced his first officer, who was waiting patiently for his turn to speak.

"Captain if I may," Spock inquired evenly.

"You may".

"Upon previous research, I have recalled a particular incident similar to that of our current predicament," he began. "Another vessel similar to our own, the USS Saratoga, was recovered shortly after being held hostage by what I assume to be this same terrorist group. They described precisely the same situation, until they found what they claimed to be a way in disarming the mass of weapons".

"They got away?" Kirk asked incredulously. "How'd they stop them without getting blasted?"

"Well the captain explained how they were able to hack into the weapons control panel and disable the launch sequence long enough that the force field was destroyed and the ship was able to escape. What I propose is we try to replicate their procedure and see if we are able to neutralize the threat of whatever missiles may be present on this base," Spock asserted confidently.

"We hack the panel, stop the launch, disable the force field, and we're outta here," Kirk chattered on in anticipation.

"Precisely," Spock confirmed with a curt nod.

"Spock, you're a genius!"

"I wouldn't use such a particular label, Captain. Perhaps a-"

"So modest," Kirk mocked him with a slap of the shoulder, "Learn to take a little credit, Spock".

Kirk turned towards his best computer handler, an officer by the name of Mankin.

"Mankin, I need you to listen to First Officer Spock. We need to hack into the weapons system's main control and disable it".

"Right away, Captain," the officer replied without hesitation. If anyone was capable of disarming those missiles, it was Mankin. He nodded at Spock who made his way over in order to assist him. Things were doing well. Kirk knew they could pull through this.

"Keptin!" Chekov called from his seat at the navigation console. Damn had he been there the whole time? The kid was so hyperactive Kirk hadn't counted on such a prolonged silence. He quickly made his way over to where the young ensign was seated.

"Yes, Mr. Chekov?"

"Meester Scott is on ze speaker, sor. He says it ez about ze varp core".

Kirk looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath. Oh, please don't let it be bad. Kirk ran towards the communicator in the wall and held down one of the attached buttons, allowing Scotty's rather annoyed voice to echo across the bridge.

"I don't _bloody well know_ if he got tha message er not. I told Chekov ta send him-"

"Mister Scott!" Kirk all but yelled in an effort to get the crazed Scotsman to calm himself down. He wondered if he'd wrecked something in his left ear when Scotty began to ramble on again.

"Am glad I reached ya, Cap'n. Sorry am so late callin, but one of tha engineers waited ta tell meh ya called down. Bloody thinks I was "concentrating and didn't need a distraction". HA. I was perfectly fine. Multi-tasking is one of ma talents if I do say so maself. Though there was the time-"

"Scotty, focus!" Kirk swiped a hand over his face as the man reeled in his sure to be long-winded story. "Chekov said something about the warp core?"

"Ah, yes. The warp core. Good news, Cap'n. Only minor damages. We should be able ta warp out of here at any time," Scotty reported proudly. He was probably beaming at the fact that his lovely lady had only taken a few bumps. Kirk hated to be the one to break it to him.

"I'm, uh, I'm afraid we're not going anywhere just yet, Scotty," Kirk exhaled rather loudly.

"Well why the bloody hell not?"

"We're trapped in some sort of force field. We don't know the extent of its pull, but we're not able to even restore engine power yet. But Spock has a plan. If we can hack into the main console in the base, then we can-"

"Captain!" Uhura interrupted quite suddenly. "I've found a signal! It's faint, but we're in contact with Starfleet. We'd better hurry though. I'm not sure how long I can patch through the signal with the force field disrupting it".

Kirk turned back toward the communicator. "Sorry, Scotty. I'll have someone in command fill you in on the rest. I gotta go," he finished quickly before nearly sprinting towards Uhura's station. "We're good for broadcast?"

"Aye, Captain. Patching through to main communication's screen now".

Kirk quickly made his way to the center of the bridge. They were on borrowed time now. He hoped the signal would last long enough to get some help. A static-laden image began broadcasting on the main screen, and Kirk heard a female voice burst over the speakers.

"This is Admiral Dorbau to _Enterprise. _Do you read?"

"We read you, Admiral," Kirk acknowledged. "We can barely hear though, the signal is weak and we're not sure how long it will last".

"I am aware of your current situation, Captain. We are currently attempting all we can do to deliver your ship safely back to Starfleet," the Admiral assured him. "We're gathering a smaller fleet to warp to your location, but we are afraid to risk being discovered with the result of the Klingon's firing".

Kirk understood her reasoning. One good reason was all those guys needed to blow them out of space and into non-existence.

"She is right in her concerns, Captain Kirk," an unfamiliar voice now spoke. "If threatened, these men will have no hesitation in firing on your ship".

"Pardon the lack of introduction, Captain. This is K'nera, another Klingon ambassador. She was transported here immediately after we were informed of your ship's capture," Dorbau explained.

Kirk nearly shook his head in disbelief; a Klingon ambassador in Starfleet base. Putting aside his surprise, he remembered Spock's plan and quickly seized the opportunity.

"Admiral, Ambassador, we have a plan. My first officer has previous knowledge of an incident exactly like the one we're in. The ship was able to hack into the weapon's main controls and disable the missiles from there. We're currently attempting to do the same in order to stop the missiles from firing and disengage the force field, hopefully allowing us enough time to enter warp and escape".

Kirk waited for a response, the Admiral was most likely thinking over the proposal. He wished she'd think quicker. Who knew how much longer the signal would be able to hold out? It was a miracle they'd gotten this far for so long.

Just before Dorbau was able to answer though, a very frantic Mankin shouted from his computer station.

"Captain! Captain Kirk! We have a problem!" He cried out in a panic. Kirk's stomach fell. No, no, they were doing so well. By the frantic cries from his officer, he knew whatever had happened was nothing good at all.

"Officer Mankin, what's the problem?" Kirk demanded. The other man had paled considerably and his hands were shaking as they hovered over his screen.

"I-I was trying to disengage the mass of weapons like you ordered, sir. Officer Spock was assisting in the process, and-and we were almost there. I had nearly done it when the entire system crashed. The program overrode itself and enacted a fail safe," Mankin stuttered, his voice nearly inaudible towards the end of the explanation.

"Fail safe? Failsafe. What does that mean?"

Spock took a step forward. "It means, Captain, that the Klingons are no longer in control of when these missiles fire. The fail safe must have been written into the programming to prevent a repeat of what I assume was the Saratoga incident. The weapons have been locked into firing. A countdown has been engaged, which means once the missiles are ready-"

"They'll fire no matter what," Mankin finished, his ghost of a voice dying out as he stared blankly at his computer screen.

Kirk's mind was reeling now, and his stomach was threatening him with violent somersaults and turns. _A failsafe, _he thought. This wasn't right. They were winning. They were almost there. They had been _so close, _dammit. And their escape plan now evaporated; gone like fog on a mirror. The missiles were locked on their target, ready to fire without command. This was where he'd usually wake up in a nightmare; escape his ruthless dreams before any more psychological damage could be done. But Kirk now found himself not in a dream, but a hellish reality that needed saving. He shook his head once to clear the looming dark fog that had now settled upon it.

"Mankin, how much time does the failsafe have?"

"About 40 minutes, sir," the shaken officer replied.

"I need you to do everything in your power to try and find a way around this. I don't care what it is, just do it," Kirk commanded. He looked to Spock, who only returned what looked to be a grim look of knowing, and then made his way back towards the communication screen.

"Kirk," Uhura called desperately, now dropping all formality. Kirk didn't even notice. "The signal's failing. We don't have much time".

"Captain, what's happening?" Admiral Dorbau was barely audible now through the static of the broadcast. "_Enterprise, _do you read me?"

"We're here, Admiral," Kirk responded, "But we're almost out of time with our transmission. Our signal's failing and I'm afraid we've encountered a problem". He drew in a deep breath before continuing.

"My officer has informed me that a failsafe has been enacted, causing the weapons to lock on manually and fire without manual command. We're trying everything in our power to find a way around it, but…it doesn't look good. We have a little more than 40 minutes before the missiles fire".

There was a brief moment of silence, save the overwhelming static, before the Ambassador, not the Admiral, responded to Kirk.

"Captain, there will be no way to stop the failsafe currently engaged," she explained quickly. "However, if the weapons themselves were manually destroyed from the base, you would be able to stop the launch".

Kirk let those words sink in for a moment. "You're suggesting we blow up the base?" He asked.

"I'm suggesting you do whatever it takes in order to save your ship and your people. The Klingon Empire is revolted by the actions Gi'ral has taken against the Federation. It wishes to see no more innocent blood spilt," K'nera replied evenly. The broadcast became increasingly static, and for a moment, Kirk feared the transmission had been lost.

His mind was put at ease a second later when it flickered back to life. Kirk knew they were out of time. He'd have to be quick.

"What about the other non-hostiles aboard the base, like the ones in the medical bay," he hurriedly asked.

"Any surviving personnel were evacuated upon the takeover of the base. It is unclear exactly how many survived, but the only remaining person is Ambassador Tvanna. You must save her, Captain. She cannot perish at Gi'ral's hand. It would be a devastating loss too great for this Empire," the ambassador replied with a grave tone. Kirk knew they had to save the remaining ambassador, and he could hear the unspoken words in the given explanation: war could result from an ambassador's death. And war was not the answer. It never was.

"Understood, ma'am," Kirk affirmed. The transmission was now devastatingly frayed and he could barely hear the Admiral's final words.

"Save your ship and the ambassador, Captain. We will do everything we can to assist you. Good-"

Suddenly the transmission ended and the screen flashed black, sending the entire bridge into that god-awful state of silence Kirk had come to hate.

He looked around once more, fear littering a few expressions, but mostly confidence was bore upon his crew's faces; confidence in their Captain. They were ready to help save their ship in any way possible.

"I know this situation is grim, and hope is scarce thing to find when faced with a problem like this, but we need to put together a way to destroy this base. I have full belief this crew is capable of anything, including saving this ship" Kirk said. His tone was hopeful, but hurried.

After all, the countdown was now on.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**quick a/n: Hello everyone! If I'm correct in my assumption, this is the first time you've heard from me on this story. Let me begin by thanking all of you who have taken the time to read through my writing. It really gives me great pleasure to know that I am able to use my words to entertain and engage others. At this point, I have a pretty good idea of how this story shall proceed, though the length is still in question. To those of you who take the time to review, you have no idea how much motivation it gives me. I'm absolutely ecstatic every time I see someone else has left his or her opinion on a chapter. If you truly enjoy the story and wish it to keep going, it would be wonderful if you could leave a quick review for me. Even if it's one word, I'm all for it! Constructive criticism is absolutely welcomed as well, so don't be afraid to tell me if anything needs improvement. Thank you to everyone. I truly am enjoying composing this story!**

They'd have to work fast; faster than they'd probably ever had in all their lives. The seconds were literally slipping away, like dust in a leaking hourglass. Kirk had called Scotty to the bridge in order to devise a plan for destroying the base. He'd informed him of how vital each minute was, and it was no surprise the usually laid back Scotsmen settled straight into a serious posture. Montgomery Scott could be wild, yes, but when it came to protecting his ship and his family, he was a force to be reckoned with. The phrase, "Demons run when a good man goes to war" often came to mind when regarding Scotty in times of peril. Kirk was glad that he was on their side.

"I cannae give you an exact plan on how this could go down, Cap'n," Scotty explained, as he studied blueprints of the base that Chekov was able to find, "but I think our best bet in a rut like this is to set charges in various points throughout the base." He pointed to a few prime spots where explosives would best be rigged, allowing for maximum damage. "You'd be able ta set em' up and detonate from here on the bridge. As long as we have the console workin', we can blow those Klingons into the next millennia".

Kirk relayed the idea through his mind. Yes, charges would be perfect. And detonating from onboard the ship? Even better. The only problem was how the explosives were going to be placed. They'd need to beam down, no doubt. After all, they still had an ambassador to rescue. Kirk looked over the blue prints, searching for a spot they could materialize in and not be spotted. This would be a keen covert mission, and being seen would mean imminent disaster. If they were caught, the _Enterprise _was doomed. A small room off the south wing of the entrance to the base caught Kirk's eye. It was a closed off area with only one way in and out, and it was in the engineering hall. It was doubtful anyone would be manning stations there with nearly everyone evacuated. He pointed to it and looked to Scotty.

"Do you think we'd be able to beam into this room here?" He asked. "We'd need the away team to set the charges manually in the correct places. We'd be able to rig them, find the ambassador, and beam back out, hopefully before anyone catches us".

Scotty seemed to think it over for a few moments before nodding to himself. "Ya know, Cap'n, I think that just might work. I'd be standing by in the transporter room to beam ya right back out before yer spotted". He paused for a moment, eyes darting towards the navigation console before his brow furrowed in thought. "I have to know, who da ya plan on takin' with ya," he asked hesitantly. Kirk thought about that for a moment, wondering why Scotty was now acting so strange.

"I suppose the original away team will suffice. Four should be enough to get the job done in time, don't you think? Besides, the less people, the less of a chance we have of being spotted."

Scotty raised his eyebrows. "Even the laddie?" He asked, eyes once again drifting to the front of the bridge. Kirk was confused for a moment. He followed the other man's gaze to the navigation console. What was he talking about? Even the-

_Oh, _he realized. _He means Chekov. _Kirk watched the small ensign, who was currently engaged in helping Sulu in any way he could. He hadn't thought about the immediate danger he'd be placing the team in when they beamed down. Kirk had promised Chekov he'd be able to come with them. _And he'd been so damned excited, too_. _But that was before this mission turned into a life or death situation, _Kirk argued with himself. He was at a loss.

"Well what do you think I should do?" Kirk asked. "Just tell him he's off the team, now?"

"He's a kid, Jim. You cannae just let him walk inta a situation like tha. Especially not on his first mission," Scotty argued.

"He's fully capable of taking care of himself. He's smart and well-trained. I see him taking self-defense with Sulu all the time".

"Are fists going to make a difference when it's phaser fire yer running frum?" Scotty retorted, his tone beginning to grow dour.

"We'll be there to look out for each other," Kirk explained, trying to keep his temper at bay. "Me, Spock, Bones. We've been in plenty of situations like that before, and we're still here aren't we?"

Scotty had looked away; his hands gripped the desk he was standing by tightly. Kirk put a reaffirming hand on his shoulder.

"Scotty, he's going to be fine. We'll protect one another. I'm not gonna let anything happen to him. I promise".

The old Scotsman looked up, giving him a tight stare, his jaw clenched, before relaxing his expression and allowing a nod of understanding. "Alright, Cap'n," he spoke evenly, "I believe ya".

Kirk smiled, giving the hand on the other man's shoulder a quick shake. "Come on," he said, "We've got charges to collect and limited time to do it".

* * *

In total, collecting the charges and preparing for beam down took less time than expected. Kirk found it down right amazing that Scotty was able to come up with so many charges so quickly. Granted, he did have some sitting around in a spare weapons locker down in engineering. Spock, Bones, and Chekov had all hurried to the transportation room, phasers loaded and belts equipped with two charges each. Kirk had a watch strapped to his wrist that was to constantly remind him how much time they had left. As he stood on the transporter pad ready to beam down, it read a threatening 31 minutes. Kirk checked his communicator.

"Everything good on the bridge, Sulu," he asked. He'd left Sulu in charge of the con with Uhura at the ready to help out in any way she could.

"Aye, Captain. Trigger for detonation is set. Good Luck," Sulu replied over the communicator. "And be safe".

"Will do," Kirk smiled as he reattached his communicator to his belt. He looked to his away team, who were standing at the ready. "We have 31 minutes until the launch is enacted. We need to set these charges, find the ambassador, and beam back up in enough time to detonate from the main console in the bridge. Everyone watch each other's backs. These guys aren't playing around and we have no idea how many have invaded the area. Understood?"

Each man nodded in response. The message was clear. Be quick, be silent, be safe.

"Alright then. Scotty, ready for beam down," Kirk turned as he positioned himself on the pad. Scotty began typing away on his computer PADD and then looked up with a nod.

"Energize".

* * *

Now if you had told Chekov he'd be on some foreign Klingon space base with a homicidal, murderous terrorist who was completely determined to kill him and the entire rest of his crew about twenty minutes ago, yeah, he probably would have laughed. In all fairness though, twenty minutes ago he was supposed to be assisting the Captain with diplomatic negotiations designed to make peace with the very race currently attempting to kill them all.

Go figure.

He'd been begging for months to help on some form of away mission. He'd never been to any of them, and he'd figured by now he was experienced enough to attend one. Of course that wasn't the case, as it usually was. Chekov knew it was because of his age. It almost always was. People looked at him differently. _Treated _him differently; as if he was some child who needed constant supervision. And who certainly had no place helping in complicated matters. It had gotten a bit better once he'd joined the _Enterprise _crew. Most people liked him, though some seemed jealous that some young kid was the head navigator of the ship nicknamed "the pride of Starfleet".

He never saw any such judgment from his family though. The bridge crew only worried too much. Uhura with her constant mothering and Bones, whose cynical view on space caused him to keep a keen and watchful eye on the young prodigy ever since he'd come one too many times into med bay with an injury due to his clumsiness. It wasn't Chekov's fault that he always seemed to find a way into a less than desirable scenario. And that one time with the Jeffries tube was _totally_ not his fault. Sulu still apologized whenever it was brought up, though it was an accident when he'd playfully shoved Chekov near the tube, only to have him stumble down into it and emerge with a sprained ankle. Boy, had Bones been pissed that time.

Chekov had frozen in his seat at the navigation console when he overheard Scotty trying to talk Kirk out of allowing him to help on the mission. He'd wanted to stand up right then and there to say he wasn't a child. He wasn't a liability that needed to stay aboard the ship while the others took care of everything. But he hadn't said anything, because he knew Scotty was only looking out for him. The old Scotsman had a soft spot for his young engineering protégé, and he only wanted to keep him safe.

It was a complete relief when Kirk had pulled through and stayed with his decision to allow him to be part of the away team. Chekov knew that beaming down to the base would be dangerous, but he didn't care. He was ready to prove he deserved that spot on the away team.

So now he stood aboard the transporter pad, golden light swirling around him as his molecules swiftly tore themselves apart and prepared to reassemble on the base below.

The first thing he noticed about the base was how dark it was. It took his eyes a few moments to readjust after they'd materialized inside a small room filled with what looked to be small engines and a control panel. Tubes lined the walls and disappeared into a ventilation system that undoubtedly connected to the rest of the building. He took a step forward and nearly tripped over someone's shoe in the dark. A rock hard grip secured his arm as a yelp escaped his lips. Spock had reached forward and caught the ensign before he was able to hit the ground. He had a finger held up to his lips, indicating for all to keep silent.

Chekov nodded and steadied himself on two feet. _Nice vork, Pavel, _he thought, _ten seconds and you're already messing things up. _He straightened his shirt and belt, making sure the charges were still in place, before turning towards his Captain.

"Alright," Kirk began in a hushed tone, "From here we split up. Spock and I will take the East Wing. Bones and Chekov, you take the West. We scanned the area before beaming down, and despite the interference, we know the ambassador is being held somewhere in the main weapons storage area, where the console controlling the missiles is located".

"Figures," Bones murmured.

"We'll rendezvous there in ten minutes, grab the ambassador, and prepare for immediate beam up, got it?" Kirk finished, looking to each of his crew members.

Each man nodded.

"Alright. Good Luck."

And with that, Kirk and Spock slipped from the room down towards the east corridor. Chekov watched them disappear round a dark corner, and then turned to Bones.

"Ve need to find ze boiler room," Chekov said as he pulled up a holographic scale model of the base. After finding the floor they were currently on, he looked up and pointed towards the opposite pathway to which Kirk and Spock had gone down. "Eet should be zis vay and tovards ze left," he recited. Bones nodded in understanding and unhooked his phaser to hold it out in front of him.

"Alright, kid. Behind me and keep your phaser at the ready. Who knows what'll come flyin' round one of these corners if we're not carfeul," he whispered.

"Aye, sor," Chekov acknowledged. He kept the three-dimensional map open as they quickly made their way towards the boiler room. A few meters to the right and a quick left turn later, they'd arrived. The heavy metal door was ajar, so they slipped silently through the opening. Bones quickly holstered his phaser and retrieved one of the charges from his belt.

"Was there any particular place Kirk wanted these things, or did he just expect us to figure that out for ourselves?" Bones murmured, clearly annoyed at the lack of direction. Chekov pulled up the holograph for the room and quickly looked it over.

"Zere shood be a reactor tovards the wery back of ze room," he said, the light of the hologram illuminating his face with an eerie blue. "If ve place ze charge zere, it vill cause maxeemum damage to zis part of ze base". Bones carefully walked through the rows of metal tubing, careful not to get caught near the puffs of boiling steam that would occasionally emerge without a warning. Chekov followed, attempting to use the light of his PADD to shed light on their walkway.

"Is this the one?" Bones asked as they approached a huge metal cylinder at least fourteen feet tall. Chekov nodded quickly, and the man began rigging the explosive to the side of the reactor. Bones used a small laser to fuse the charge to the rusting metal, and then connected the wires protruding from the top together. From there, he entered a code, allowing for the bomb to become fully functional. It dimly glowed a soft red in the overwhelming dark.

"Alright," Bones breathed, "One down, three to go. Where to next?"

* * *

They'd been rigging the last charge when everything went to hell pretty quickly. Bones had just entered the activation code when his fingers froze over the control pad, and his head turned sharply to right, as if he was listening for something.

"Doctor McCoy-"

"Shh," the man whispered. He looked up and searched the small room they found themselves in. The only noises audible were the constant _clicks _and _whirs _emitting constantly from the machinery surrounding them. Chekov almost thought the Doctor may have been imagining things, when suddenly, he heard it. _Footsteps. _And heavy ones at that. Bones finished the activation code and grabbed Chekov's arm.

"Come on, we gotta high tail it outta here," he whispered. He dragged the young ensign quickly around the corner and they ducked behind a damaged computer. Bones craned his head around the side to ensure the coast was clear. "Alright, kid. The door we came in is right around here. It's a straight shot to the exit and we should be close to where Kirk wanted us to meet. We have about…2 minutes. Be quick but stay silent, got it?"

Chekov nodded quickly. His heart was pounding in his chest, the sound reverberating loudly in his ears. The phaser at his side suddenly felt a hundred times heavier. He realized how unprepared he suddenly felt when it came to using the weapon. Sure they'd been given practice, but the circumstances were a whole lot different when it came to facing an actual enemy who was literally trying to kill you. Chekov pushed aside the fear that crept through his spine and readied himself on the haunches of his legs. _Come on, Pavel, _the thought, _you can do this. _He looked towards Bones, who simply nodded, indicating it was time to run.

Chekov swiftly pushed himself up and fell into step behind the Doctor. Their footfalls were nearly inaudible as they neared the exit. They were almost there, about forty feet from the door, when a figure jumped out from behind a metal cylinder and knocked Chekov to the ground. His yell of surprise caused Bones to turn on his feet and bring out his phaser. He was taking aim when another body launched itself from behind him and latched on to his torso. He cried out in frustration as his phaser was knocked from his hand.

Chekov had scrambled to try and stand back up, but was cut back down with a swift punch to his right cheek. Wow was that going to hurt in the morning. Dazed from the hit he'd just taken, he rolled to the side, narrowly missing the boot that attempted to collide with his head. He pushed himself to his knees and leaned backward, allowing whoever was attacking him to slide forward from a failed and poorly placed kick. Chekov had finally gotten to his feet and was able to make out the figure in the dim lighting. It was a Klingon, and a scary looking one at that. He was at least four inches taller than the small Russian, and very muscular. His face was contorted into a hateful sneer and he charged at the younger man in front of him.

Chekov ducked under the punch that came flying at his face, and quickly brought up his own hand into the Klingon's chin, effectively knocking him back a few steps. Taking the fleeting opportunity, he landed a firm kick to the bigger man's chest and locked his fingers together. As the attacker leaned forward in pain from the bruise that was no doubt forming on his stomach, Chekov brought down his linked fists on the back of the Klingon's head. The brutish man crumpled to the ground in a large heap, unmoving. The boy's success was short-lived though. He quickly remembered the Doctor and turned around to assist him.

Bones was struggling to get the larger Klingon off his back and reach his phaser. Chekov's heat froze as he noticed the glint of shining metal in the other attacker's hand. He held a very jagged, very _sharp_, knife and was holding it dangerously close to the fighting doctor's neck. Bones' hand gripped the wrist containing the weapon and attempted to steer it in a different direction, but from the angle the Klingon held it, he didn't have much force helping him redirect it. Chekov looked around for something, _anything, _to help. The man who had attacked him was still unconscious on the ground behind him, but besides that, there was nothing.

The young boy's eyes widened as he remembered the phaser at his side. As quickly as they could, his shaking hands retrieved the gun from its holster on his belt and drew it up. He pointed it straight at the struggling duo, attempting to get a lock on the man attacking McCoy. Nearly all his body was hidden behind the doctor's, and Chekov realized he wouldn't be able to get a decent shot off without him turning around.

"Doctor!" He cried out desperately. Bones glanced up for half a second and upon seeing the boy with his phaser aimed, yelled out as he turned round enough to expose his attacker's back. Chekov took in a quick breath to steady his aim and fired.

The Klingon cried out in pain as the shot found its mark, and he fell to ground, arms unlatching from around Bone's back. The man lay on the ground, a hole scorched on his back. He was dead; his eyes were locked on the ceiling, wide and unmoving. Chekov's hands had resumed shaking as he still held the phaser in front of him. The adrenaline coursing through his veins caused him to vibrate where he stood. The blood pounding in his ears blocked out all noise, and he could feel the bruise on his cheek throbbing in pain. He vaguely noticed as Bones quickly recovered and began slowly making his way towards him.

"Pavel, hey kid, look at me. Everything's fine," He assured him calmly. The old doctor's usually grumpy tone had turned into one of reassurance and comfort, like a dad trying to calm down his frightened child. Let it never be said that McCoy couldn't be the grouchiest, most easily-annoyed man with a wolf-like temper. But when it came to his wolf cubs, he'd be there to protect them through and through. "Put the gun away, alright. We're safe now. You took care of that guy and there's no one else".

Chekov stared with wide eyes as he glanced at the phaser in his hand. He willed his shaking arms to re-holster the damned thing before he accidentally shot something. He placed the gun slowly back in his belt and took in a deep breath. His head was racing a mile a minute, most likely the same speed as his beating heart. Bones walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Yes, sor," Chekov replied, his voice quavering. The doctor gave him a reassured nod and then looked around.

"Alright we've gotta get to the weapons console now. Jim'll throw a fit if we don't get there in time," he added as he retrieved his fallen phaser. He approached the unconscious Klingon and unclipped the communicator from its belt. "Can't have anyone else knowin' we're here".

Chekov cleared his mind enough to pull up the hologram of the base and map out their path. "Ve are right by ze console," He explained. "Ees right down ze hallvay".

He and Bones quickly made their way out the door and down the hall, making sure to check corners and adjacent doorways before continuing on. Chekov spotted the entrance to the console and Bones motioned for him to follow. They picked up the pace a bit, and were about to pass the last corner when McCoy collided with another person, sending them both spiraling to the ground.

Chekov reached forward to help the older man up and stopped short at what he saw. The person the doctor had collided with wasn't another Klingon like he'd feared. No, it was Jim, who was now lying sprawled out across Bones' legs.

"Keptin?" Chekov whispered. This caused the blond man to look up in confusion.

"Chekov? What are you-what is-"

"I swear to everything Jim you have four seconds to get off me before I hypo your ass into an induced coma," McCoy threatened with gritted teeth. This caused the Captain to quickly sit back and pull himself to his feet. Behind him was Spock, who regarded the situation with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry Bones," Kirk apologized, rubbing at the arm he'd fallen on in the collision, "we were on our way to the console. We didn't realize you guys would be headed this direction, too".

"Sorry doesn't cut it, ya moron," McCoy grunted as nursed the back of his head. "Yer lucky I don't shoot ya full of holes where ya stand". Kirk smiled just a bit.

"Come on. We don't have any time to waste," he reasoned. He glanced at his watch, which now read 15 minutes. He stepped in front, with Spock behind him, and McCoy and Chekov following. Kirk carefully opened the door leading into the main weapons console and motioned for everyone to follow him. They slipped soundlessly through the door and into one of the largest rooms Chekov had ever seen. He could barely make out the various catwalks lining the dark ceiling. The room was a giant rectangle and filled with hundreds of stacked boxes labeled _ammunition. _In the center was a console that very much resembled the one aboard the _Enterprise. _It had long, thin wires running from the floor and up into the back of it. Chekov noticed a large metal door at the far end of the room. It seemed to be the only other entrance besides the one they'd just entered. Everything was quiet. Really quiet. The room seemed vacant.

"So where's the ambassador?" McCoy asked, looking around the giant room they stood in.

"I-I don't know," Kirk replied with a furrowed brow. "This is the main weapons console. She should be in here. I don't know where else she could-"

He stopped short and cut off the sentence he was finishing. There were voices nearing the door they'd come through, and they were pretty close. Kirk pressed himself against the wall and soon the others followed his motion. They didn't dare breathe louder than they needed to in fear they'd be discovered. The voices grew louder and seemed right outside the door.

"-not sure. Something about beaming aboard the ship," one of the two Klingon men said as they waited outside the door. Chekov froze in place and saw Kirk stiffen in front of him. "Planned on finding the captain himself and using that ambassador as leverage to get the location. Seems kind of dumb if you ask me. They should just blow them out of the sky, just like we did all the other ones. No point arguing for something he isn't going to get".

"Watch what you say about Gi'ral," the other replied, "He's not one to question. If he gets one whiff of opposition from anyone, they're dead".

"Suppose you're right. Eh, guess I'm just sick of hanging around this place".

"Ha! You don't have to tell me that twice," the second man agreed. He first reached for the door handle and entered the room with the other Klingon right behind. Chekov's hand hovered over the weapon at his side, his mind racing at the thought of having to use it again.

Kirk pulled out his phaser, the quick noise causing the two intruders to jump in surprise, their hands immediately reaching for their weapons. They were dead before they hit the floor, Kirk firing two single shots to cut both of them down. He looked around quickly to make sure no one else had heard the shots and shut the heavy metal door with a thud. Bones wasted no time in vocalizing what they all were hesitant to say.

"They're probably aboard the _Enterprise_ right now," he said, "and they've got the ambassador. Jim I don't know about you, but I feel like we're in major trouble now. How much time does that thing have left?" McCoy motioned to the countdown watch.

"Thirteen minutes," Kirk answered flatly. All four men fell silent. Thirteen minutes before their beloved ship, and everyone on it, was wiped out of existence. The severity of their success now hung in the air, weighing down on each person's shoulders like a lead blanket. They couldn't fail. They'd come too far to give up now.

Chekov's mind drifted back a few months, to that horrible, torturous day on Vulcan. It'd happened so fast, he'd been running so hard, it all seemed like a wisp of a memory now. He remembered it clearly though: Sulu and Kirk; they'd been falling, and no one could get a lock on their signal with the transporter. Panic. He remembered panicking as he heard the main transporter officer inform them that she couldn't get a hold of them. The feeling of intense worry that instantly spread over his whole body. Fear. Yes, there was definitely fear. Fear that he'd lose his best friends, his brothers, to a collapsing, dying planet from which they would never be able to come back. That, combined with the urgent atmosphere, caused him to make a split-second decision, one he was afraid to mess up, for the stakes were too high to fail. He'd literally made it in the nick of time. One second more, and the Captain and his pilot would have been lost forever. But he'd done it. He'd saved them, no matter how scared he'd been.

Now, standing in a foreign enemy base with precious seconds ticking away, that familiar mix of fear and panic returned, and he realized just how scared he really was. This wasn't some awful simulation or scenario or nightmare that he could detach himself from. There was no telling himself it wasn't real. The truth was that the _Enterprise _had less than fifteen minutes to live, and that thought terrified him; it scared him so freaking much.

The ongoing silence continued for a few moments until the crackle of a communicator burst forth, carrying the sound of a frantic, familiar voice.

"_Enterprise _to team! _Enterprise _to team! They've beamed aboard the ship. They've entered the bridge and I don't think we can-"

The voice was cut off suddenly and without warning.

"Sulu?" Kirk yelled frantically into the communicator. Chekov's heart leapt into his throat. Hikaru. Where was Hikaru? They needed to get to the bridge. "Sulu!" The captain demanded once more in vain. There was only silence. Agonizing, horrible, silence. Chekov usually hated the quiet, but now he'd come to detest it entirely. It made him want to bang his head against the wall until there was no more silence.

A few moments passed and Kirk was about to try the communicator again when it suddenly burst to life once more. But it was not their faithful pilot whose voice radiated throughout the empty console room this time. No. The voice they heard made Chekov's blood run cold, as he could only stand there, staring at the communicator in Jim's hand.

"Captain Kirk," Gi'ral's voice echoed off the cold, metallic walls, "I do believe we have some business to discuss".


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: You guys… I just…wow! So many reviews, I'm beyond words at how excited I am! Keep on reviewing, I love hearing from you guys! Thank you so much for the continued support, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! Thank you my faithful readers! **

Sulu should have known something was wrong the second Scotty hadn't checked in before the scheduled time for the away team to be beamed back aboard. He'd been manning the bridge, fulfilling his duty as acting captain.

It was weird; the humming of the engines beneath his fingertips as he carefully reclined in the legendary, venerated chair. It gave him a feeling of power, quite unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The leather beneath him was cool and molded, making any position one of utmost comfort. He'd wondered what it would be like to have this experience full time; in charge, on the front lines, commanding a team. It was an exhilarating sensation that made his head spin. _Captain Sulu, _he'd thought with a smirk. What a title.

He'd put those dreams of higher position on the back burner for the time being, though. Right now, he was acting captain: fill-in and expected leader. He'd found numerous dead ends with transferring power from the reserve to the shields. He was only able to raise and keep them at about fourteen percent; barely enough protection against a single hit. In the meantime, Sulu was keeping everyone aboard the bridge and others throughout the ship on their toes. He wanted them to be ready for warp as soon as they beamed up the away team. With a seriously tight time limit, they had no room for mistakes. Every move counted, and Sulu kept that in mind as he monitored the bio-signs of the away team. Nothing had been concerning at first, just elevated heart rate, which was normal considering the situation they were currently in.

Sulu had nearly lost it, however, when Doctor McCoy's and Chekov's bio-signs suddenly leapt off the charts. Chekov had been first, a sudden hit to his back caused a registered injury to his scans. Then his heartbeat had started climbing rapidly just as McCoy had begun what one could only assume was fighting against someone. Adrenaline levels were skyrocketing, and he was about to contact one of them through their communicators against Kirk's order of radio silence, when Chekov's blood pressure and heart beat scans reached unimaginable levels, and it was killing Sulu on the inside that he didn't know what was scaring the young boy so much. There had been a sudden moment when McCoy's bio-sign stopped resistance and began returning to normal, while Chekov's was still racing. It had taken a few moments, but eventually, the ensign's scans slowly settled back into normal rhythm. Sulu hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he began to feel his own heart begin to race.

Seeing his family members in danger like, and being able to do _nothing, _was something Sulu never wanted to experience again. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost one them. They were a family, dammit, and he wasn't going to let any of them die. As he checked, re-checked, and checked them once more, the bio-signs seemed completely back to normal. But Sulu needed extra reassurance. He'd felt everything inside him literally stop cold when they veered out of control. Doctor McCoy was like the over-protective, easily-annoyed older brother he'd never had. And Chekov, well, he was the little brother he'd always wanted. He couldn't have asked for a better person to help guide one of Starfleet's greatest vessels.

They'd been lumped together in nearly every simulation back at the academy. Sulu had been exceeding in his piloting skills, and Chekov, his navigational skills. It was no surprise, really, that they usually found themselves paired up during exercises and training simulations. Though the first one had been rough (Sulu had been shocked to find a fourteen year old kid was his new partner in flight training), the two began to work like a machine when paired at the helm of a ship. Their movements were intertwined, and each was expected, never catching the other off guard. They'd soon become great friends after Sulu would save Chekov from a group of older, jealous cadets who thought it'd be fun to take out their frustrations on a kid who had achieved more by his teenage years than they'd hope to do in a lifetime. He helped carry the boy to the infirmary, stayed with him through the healing process of a broken leg received during the fight, and eventually, they became roommates. Finding out they were both assigned to the _Enterprise _had been one of the greatest days of both their young lives.

It was during his reminiscing when he'd missed the call from Scotty. He hadn't realized they'd beamed aboard and rendered the head engineer unconscious until it was too late.

"Captain," Ensign Darwin, Chekov's temporary replacement called, her voice stiff with concern, "I'm picking up strange readings in the transporter room. I-I'm not sure how, but, I think- I think someone has beamed aboard." She looked back down at her scans. "Make that five somebodies, sir".

Sulu was already on his feet and at the communicator at the helm. "Mister Scott, report". He called through in vain. There was no response. Not a single word. "Mister Scott, do you read?" Utter silence answered him. He desperately punched in the comm one more time. "Dammit Scotty, are you there!" He waited and waited. The bridge had fallen silent when he'd yelled out; all eyes were now staring at him in confusion. Sulu stared at the communicator, willing it to say something. He needed to know his friend was okay. After a few more seconds of fruitless waiting, he shakily released the call button and fell into action. There were intruders now, and they needed to protect the helm at all costs.

"We've had unknown entities board this ship," he wasted no time in addressing the entire bridge, "I want doors to all corridors locked and sealed. Disable the turbo-lifts and elevators. Have security personnel monitor all halls. No one is getting to this bridge, is that understood?"

All heads nodded, the command given fully registering with them. Everyone quickly went to work, attempting to halt the intruders and delay their passage to the helm as much as possible. Sulu approached Darwin at her station.

"Can you tell where they are?" He asked. The ensign shook her head in frustration as she looked over the data she had pulled up.

"They're disrupting the motion sensors and detection scans, Captain. I can't get a lock on their position. There's no telling where they-"

_BAM! _

The unexpected crash came from the main entrance to the bridge, startling the members of the crew, who had now stopped working, frozen in place.

"I think we have our answer," Sulu replied. "Seal the doors. Don't let them get in!" He quickly raced across towards the navigation console to get to the comm. He needed to contact Kirk. The Captain had ordered radio silence that should only be broken in case of any emergency. Sulu didn't hesitate. He was pretty damned sure this qualified as an emergency.

Just as he reached the front of the helm, he heard a massive _bang, _and an explosion rocked the bridge. Sulu turned, already expecting what he would see. There stood Gi'ral, smiling ever-so triumphantly, the ambassador at his side still held at disruptor point. Three other Klingons stood on either side, hateful sneers plastered on their faces.

"I'd like to speak with Captain Kirk," Gi'ral spoke with a chilling smile, "I do hope he's not busy". There was a tense moment where no one spoke. Sulu's eyes flickered towards the security personnel stationed on the bridge, their hands were wavering towards the phasers at their sides. His eyes widened in anticipation, and before he could signal for them to stand down, they opened fire.

Gi'ral and the ambassador simply stepped behind the three other Klingons who were no doubt brought along as body guards. They lifted their disruptors to return fire; two ducked out of the way to avoid being hit. Others aboard the bridge took refuge behind whatever they could find, be it their own stations or simply the floor. The security officers who'd fired the first shots ducked behind the console containing the trigger for the detonation of the explosive charges on the base below them. Sulu remembered someone once telling him that time seemed to slow down in times of great stress or peril. This is what he experienced as he watched the Klingon men fire at the console. The glow of the charge leaving the disruptor was blinding as it flew towards its target. The second it took for it to travel across the bridge seemed like an eternity. And suddenly, it was over.

Sparks flew and smoke billowed from the crater now stationed directly in the middle of the control panel of the console. The remains were charred and completely black, loose wire hanging limply from the hole.

_NO! _Sulu thought. _This can't be happening! _The trigger was gone; literally gone. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what he had just seen. That control panel was the only way they would be able to detonate from the ship; the only way for them to escape this nightmare. What they were going to do next, Sulu had no clue. He had no freaking clue and it angered him. Everything seemed to be going wrong, and this was the worst thing to happen yet. How were they ever going to out of here now?

The fighting continued on until Gi'ral shouted quite forcefully "ENOUGH!" All heads turned towards him as he held his weapon to the ambassador's head.

"Now," he said, taking in a breath, "Seeing as I have the upper hand, I will say again. I would like to speak to Captain Kirk, though I can see he's not here at the moment. Do any of you know where he could have gotten to?" He looked around at each face of the crew, their faces filled with what was either fear of the situation or confusion as to if he was actually asking them where the Captain was.

Gi'ral brought out a second disruptor from its holster and aimed it at the crew member closest to him: a young women in a blue science officer's dress. Her eyes widened in fear at the weapon now pointed directly at her face.

"Please, do not make me ask again. Young lady, do you know where the Captain is?" Gi'ral inquired in a forceful tone, indicating he was not planning on being patient. Sulu admired the women's bravery as she defiantly looked the murderer before her in the eyes and blatantly whispered "No". Unfortunately, this wasn't an acceptable answer in the sinister Klingon's book.

"A shame, really," he said simply. In a flash, he lowered the disruptor towards the woman's leg and fired. She screamed out in pain, the hit causing her to stumble to the floor. Blood began pouring out of her wound, and for a second, Sulu could only stare in shock. His mind cleared quickly, though, and soon he was at the fallen officer's side, quite surprised he hadn't been fired upon due to his sudden movement. He began tearing off a piece of his golden shirt when he heard the _click _of a disruptor being reloaded behind him, and turned to find Gi'ral pointing the very same weapon he'd just seen cripple a young woman at his head.

"That would be unwise, sir," he explained. "As I do not want to have to shoot another one of you in case I have to blow up this ship. It would really be nice for all of you to be alive for that".

Sulu gritted his teeth in anger. "This girl needs medical attention or she's going to die".

Gi'ral scoffed. "And I won't feel guilty if she does. You may contact your medical services, but I want to know where the Captain is. Now. Or I'm afraid I'll have to end this poor girl's misery right here and now. A direct shot to the heart will do it, don't you think?"

Before Sulu even had time to contemplate his next move, another science officer, one who had been seen multiple times with the woman that now lie bleeding at his feet, stood up and cried out.

"No please! Leave her alone! The Captain-" he hesitated, wary of whether or not he should say what he intended to. "The Captain has taken a team down onto the base. There was a failsafe enacted from the weapons, and they intend to detonate charges to destroy them". His voice drifted off in realization of what he'd just done.

Sulu looked toward Gi'ral, whose face was now a mixture of hatred, anger, and pure loathing. He looked at his associates. "Idiots!" He screamed. "How did you not know of this! Now the weapons will fire no matter what!"

The furious Klingon man was otherwise occupied in reprimanding his men, and Sulu took the opportunity to hop up and race towards the comm. He punched the call button and spoke frantically, praying that the away team would be able to hear him.

"_Enterprise _to team! _Enterprise _to team! They've beamed aboard the ship. They've entered the bridge and I don't think we can-"

Sulu was caught off as he was roughly dragged away from the console, an arm pinned painfully behind his back. One of the Klingon body guards had him restrained.

_"Sulu?" _He heard Kirk's voice clearly through the comm. _"Sulu!" _

Gi'ral stepped forward, allowing one of the other Klingon men to take hold of the ambassador, and gave Sulu a wicked, knowing smile. He pressed the call button and spoke, his voice seething with hidden rage.

"Captain Kirk, I do believe we have some business to discuss".

There was a moment of silence over the other end of the communicator, probably Kirk talking to one of the other members of the away team.

_"Gi'ral," _Kirk finally spoke. _"What business do you have aboard my ship?"_

"I should ask you the same question, Captain," the Klingon man retorted, "Seeing as you've found it necessary to infiltrate my base".

There was a pause. _"We came aboard in order to make negotiations in person," _Kirk replied hesitantly. Sulu knew it was a blatantly obvious lie, and he was pretty sure that the captain knew how far-fetched it sounded too. There was no fooling Gi'ral. He knew exactly what that away team had been doing.

"No need for games or lies," he spat, "I know why you're down there. I know that you're trying to save your precious ship from imminent destruction due to your own stupidity. Believing you'd be able to de-activate my weapons. HA! It seems the only place that got you is closer to your death".

_"It doesn't have to end like that. We can work out a compromise. You release my ship from your force field and I won't blow this base and your entire crew into oblivion". _

Sulu knew Kirk must be pretty damn desperate if he was down to bargaining with a mad man. He didn't blame him though. They were almost out of time, and everyone was going to die if something didn't work.

"You dare try and negotiate with me, peasant?" Gi'ral sounded genuinely offended, and his face set into an odious sneer.

Sulu remembered the damaged console; the fact that Kirk's threat stood no match. He didn't know that there wasn't any leverage behind what he was saying.

"Captain!" He shouted desperately. "The trigger is destroyed, there's no way to detonate it from here. It's-"

Sulu cried out in pain as the man restraining him twisted his arm painfully behind his back. The action effectively silenced the younger man.

_"Sulu! Sulu are you alright!" _Kirk called through frantically. _"I swear to God you touch him and I'll-"_

"You'll what?" Gi'ral interrupted complacently. "You'll kill me? You'll destroy my base? Sorry Captain Kirk, but you're very mistaken in the position you now find yourself. You heard what's happened. You have no way of threatening me now. You are just like the rest of your pathetic race: dimwitted and arrogant. Now I suggest you beam back aboard right now, or I will not hesitate in killing every person I see in my journey to leave, starting with your pilot".

* * *

Chekov's entire body went numb as Gi'ral threatened the life of his best friend. He'd been freaking out ever since Sulu had informed them that the detonation sequence was longer active due to the damaged trigger. He'd heard the other man cry out in pain, and then nothing. Chekov looked to Kirk, whose hand gripped his communicator so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"Jim," Bones said gravely, "The second we beam aboard that ship, they'll high-tail it out of there and leave us to all those missiles".

Kirk shook his head. Chekov's heart ached at the sight of his desperate Captain. "I know Bones. But if we don't there'll be no one to save. He'll kill everyone and the ship will still be destroyed".

"So what are we just supposed to give ourselves up then? This is it? This is how it ends?"

Spock, who was as stoic as normal, spoke up. "Perhaps Mr. Scott would be of use in repairing the console. If successful, we would still be able to detonate aboard the _Enterprise._"

Chekov knew that was the most far-fetched hope he'd ever heard. Even if Scotty was somehow able to find a way to miraculously repair the trigger, there was no way it would be in time. His young, genius mind began racing, a seemingly impossible thought had popped into his head as he looked towards the console in the middle of the room. Would it be possible?

"Captain, I'm waiting for a response. I'm afraid we're nearly out of time and I would hate to kill another member of your crew before they get to experience your failure for themselves," Gi'ral threatened lowly.

Kirk inhaled deeply. "Scotty's our best shot now," he whispered, his tone was grave. He pressed the call button on his communicator. "Alright. We'll be back aboard".

The Klingon man on the other side of the conversation had a tone filled with excitement. "Excellent. We'll be ready to meet you in the transporter room, so no tricks Captain".

Chekov's heart was once again racing as he turned over the possibilities of his plan in his head. The console aboard the bridge was damaged, but the one in here was fully functional. It could be re-programmed to detonate the charges on the base. It could be made into a new trigger. However, the process would have to be done-

"Manually," Chekov whispered, garnering Kirk's attention.

"What was that?" The Captain asked.

Chekov looked up into the older man's confused eyes, knowing full well his next choice of action. "I cen do it manually!"

Just as the golden light began swirling around them all, Chekov raced towards the console, his heart pounding every second.

"Chekov!" Kirk screamed, his arm outstretched. The young ensign watched as the last of his family was surrounded in a brilliant blanket of gold, and then vanished, their molecules already headed straight for the _Enterprise. _

The silence of the room washed over him, and he realized how very alone he now was.


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: hello! This chapter will be quite a long one, and for good reason. I have exams coming up this next week and won't be able to update until afterward. Fear not, there will be a Chapter Six sometime that weekend, so don't think I've given up! I can't thank you guys enough for the reviews. They make me so happy. Keep on letting me know what you think! Thank you all!**

They were there so suddenly and so fast, Kirk's mind was spinning, his thoughts not quite in proper order. He gripped the memories tight and forced them to resurface._ Danger, _he perceived. They'd been in danger, so much danger. This entire day there hadn't been a moment where he'd felt like the stress of imminent destruction wasn't pressing down on his shoulders like a thousand pound anvil. _Not enough time. _That was true. They'd been short on time every corner they'd turned. Time, time, time. There was never enough of it. It vanished so quickly, the seconds unable to be stopped.

_Gone, _his mind seemed to barely whisper. _Gone. _The memory spiraled out of control and hit him with the force of a wall as he recalled the previous minutes, no, previous _seconds, _that he'd just witnessed. There had been a moment; he'd seen in it the boy's eyes. It was the moment his eyes flickered with anticipation just enough that Kirk was able deduce the next course of action. Only his body hadn't reacted fast enough. The kid was just too damn _fast. _Too quick for Kirk to stop him. The last glimpse he'd caught of the boy was the apologetic sorrow in his expression, as if to say, _I know. But, I'm sorry. _

So now Jim Kirk found himself materialized on a pad in the transporter room, his away team short one Russian ensign. Spock was on his left, McCoy, his right. The fourth spot was empty. It mocked him such a way to that it caused a sudden flash of anger. He realized he'd need to beam Chekov up right away, but the only problem with that was now standing on the other side of the transporter control panel.

Gi'ral and his three body guards were there, just as promised, Gi'ral pointing a disruptor in Scotty's back. The old Scotsman had a nasty bruise on the side of his head, and he seemed pale, no doubt he'd been knocked out. His eyes fell upon the transporter pads, eyes widening as he realized someone was missing. Kirk watched Scotty turn to him, his expression full of fear and concern. His eyes seemed to want an answer, but Kirk couldn't give one. Not now. Now, they had to focus on getting their little brother back.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Gi'ral spoke sarcastically. Kirk resisted the urge to roll his eyes and lash out. He didn't have time for the arrogant man's condescending insults.

"We're here now, so I suggest you let my engineer go before I-"

"Come now, Captain" Gi'ral breathed, "We've been through this already. You really should learn your place, especially in your current position. Your threats mean nothing. Oh, and don't worry about your friend still on my base". The man's words made Kirk freeze. His body stiffened, and Gi'ral smiled at his sudden response.

"Yes, I know he's still down there. A bit young to be off on his own isn't he? A shame he'll have to die. But fear not. I'll make sure you can hear as I end him just before your entire ship is destroyed".

Kirk saw something in Scotty snap in that moment, and the old Scotsman roared as he violently turned round, causing the disruptor from Gi'ral's hand to fire a shot. The stray projectile hit the transporter console, the impact causing an array of sparks to explode through a billow of smoke. Scotty threw his body forward, knocking both of them to the ground. Kirk pulled out his phaser and fired two shots, both hitting the Klingon who'd kneeled to help up his fallen leader. Beside him, Spock and McCoy had begun firing as well, trying to hit the other two men who'd ducked behind the console. Bones dove to the right, a blast narrowly missing his heart. Spock ducked and got off one shot that hit one Klingon straight in the chest. He toppled over the panel in front of him to the ground. Kirk peered over the console and saw Scotty still wrestling with Gi'ral. He was landing punch after punch to the already dazed Klingon's face. During his moment of hesitation while watching Scotty take on Gi'ral, the last Klingon body guard had sprung up from his hiding place and had taken aim straight at Kirk's head.

"Jim!" Bones called. Kirk's eyes widened in quick surprise before he hit the floor, allowing McCoy to fire at the last reaming hostile, who fell dead to the ground with a scorched hole on the right side of his chest. Spock grabbed one of Kirk's arms and hauled him to his feet. The blond man wasted no time in racing towards his head engineer, who was still furiously beating Gi'ral.

"Scotty!" Kirk yelled. "Scotty stop!"

The call landed on deaf ears as the red-shirted man continued to pummel the Klingon he had pinned to the ground. Kirk reached forward, securing an arm around Scotty's chest, then used all his strength to pry him off.

"Scotty that's enough," Kirk said calmly, still holding onto to the engineer. Scotty was breathing heavily, a crazed, wild look in his eyes. His knuckles were bruised and cut, and there was a smear of blood on his face. Kirk turned the man round to face him, using all his will power to thrust forward a calming tone, despite the dire situation. "We need to beam Chekov back aboard. I need you to focus and do that okay? I'll take care of him," he said, motioning towards Gi'ral.

Scotty took in a deep, heavy breath, attempting to calm himself. He simply nodded his head and continued towards the transportation console. Kirk turned towards Gi'ral, who was a pathetic sight to behold. He had multiple bruises littering his face, and there was blood dripping from his nose. Kirk walked over and grabbed the Klingon by the collar. He lifted him and pinned him against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Tell your men to release my ship from your force field," Kirk ordered, his tone deathly low, "Or I will not hesitate to allow my engineer to finish you permanently".

Gi'ral laughed, the force causing blood to bubble up over his lips. "I do not take orders from a human. Especially not you. I'd rather die". Kirk began to feel his fist tighten; it took all his strength not to lay waste to the murderous man in front of him.

"Cap'n," Scotty called, his voice cracking, "The shots damaged tha transporter. I ca…I cannae beam anyone up or down."

"Can it be fixed?" Kirk asked desperately. His heart sank as Scotty spoke.

"I can try. But Jim-I…I don't know if I'll be able to fix it in time".

Gi'ral laughed once again, and the burning rage Kirk had been keeping at bay surged forth. He slammed the Klingon against the wall again, this time his face was near inches from Gi'ral's.

"I would not hesitate to kill you right here and right now. The only reason I won't is because you're going to be spending the rest of your pathetic life in a cold, confined, disgusting cube of a cell; locked away so that no one will ever have to see you again. I can guarantee that you will never see daylight again".

He let the injured Klingon slide to the floor in a heap. The adrenaline that had kept his anger going was quickly wearing off, only to be replaced by fear as he remembered the situation at hand. He checked the timer. It only had 6 minutes left. "Scotty, call security. Get them up here to take care of all this. Get your best to work on that transporter. Tell them to let you know the second it's ready for beam up. You're going to be on the bridge working on that trigger. Bones, Spock, let's move".

Kirk raced forward out the door, his legs carrying him towards the bridge as fast as they could move. They swiftly turned corners and sprinted down the linking corridors until they reached the turbo-lift. The seconds they spent waiting for it to arrive were agonizing.

"Captain on the bridge!" He vaguely heard someone call. It was like an awful punch to the face, that saying. It only reminded him how much was now at stake.

"Uhura!" Kirk called. "Can you set up a transmission in the main weapon's console room?"

Uhura looked to him with confused eyes. "I- I can try, but why do we-"

"Please," Kirk interrupted, "Nyota, Pavel's still down there and we can't beam him back up". There was no covering up the pain and concern lacing his voice. Uhura's entire facial expression crumbled into complete fear. She did her best to compose herself before turning in her seat and frantically beginning to search for a signal. Sulu overheard him and was at his side in a second.

"What do you mean he's still down there? Why didn't he beam up with you!" The young man's tone was frantic.

"He ran off," Kirk explained. "I think he's trying to reprogram the console into a new trigger for the charges".

Sulu shook his head. "No. No he couldn't do that. Not unless he was going to-" Sulu looked up, terror and realization filling his eyes "Oh my God. Jim you can't let him do that. You have to get him back".

"Don't you think I'm trying!? Uhura can you find a signal?" Kirk called over his shoulder.

"There's one, Captain. It's on a small viewing screen at the console. I'm patching us through now!" She replied quickly.

Kirk turned towards the communications screen at the front of the helm. He spared a glance at the countdown on his wrist. _5 minutes left._

For one of the first times in his life, Kirk began to pray. And he prayed for a miracle.

* * *

Chekov's hands flew flawlessly across the console's control panel as he began to finish entering the final commands for the trigger. He was crazy. He must be crazy. That was why he'd run away at the last second. It was why he was standing here now, fingers mechanically reprogramming the console to detonate the chargers that would destroy the very base he was standing on.

He let that sink in for a moment. Knowing he was not making it out of this situation alive scared him. He wasn't going to lie to himself. The thought of never being aboard the_ Enterprise_ again, the thought that the warmth of its security and soothing purr of its engines would never again ease him into a peaceful sleep; it scared the hell out of him. He'd thought about how everything might end one day. He figured the crew of the _Enterprise _would have to be forced from duty before ever deciding to resign. Chekov imagined years and years spent travelling through the endless stars; the adventures and wonder of the galaxy never ceasing. He imagined hundreds of little moments he'd remember forever. Whether it was simply enjoying his friends company on the bridge, or running for his life after pulling yet another joke on Doctor McCoy with Kirk and Sulu as his partners in crime. Maybe he'd finally get the chance to settle that bet with Sulu about how many cups of coffee he could drink in under an hour. Or perhaps McCoy would finally learn that hell would freeze over before he would beat the Russian mathematics genius in Poker. He liked to think that the memories he made would live on forever in the people he shared them with.

Now, the realization that none of those dreams he'd had would become reality washed over him like a wave of freezing ice water. He realized how much he didn't want it to end this way, how much he didn't want to die. He wanted himself and his family to live the rest of their long, happy lives together. But now a long, happy life was cut down to about eight minutes.

Chekov thought about his family back on the _Enterprise, _their familiar faces and warm smiles resurfacing in his mind. He held those memories fast, using them to make himself work faster. He'd die, no matter how much he didn't want to. But maybe, he thought for a moment, maybe dying wouldn't be all that bad as long as he knew his family would live. With that thought embedded in his willpower, he punched in the final code numbers for the program.

The empty room surrounding him was silent. He could feel his rapidly beating heart thumping against his chest. He drew in a breath, his hands shaking all the while. This was it.

Suddenly, to the right of the console, the communications screen flickered to life from a burst of static. Carefully, he tiptoed toward it, only to hear a familiar voice crackling over the sound system, desperate in calling his name.

_"Chekov! Chekov can you hear me?" _There was a pause. _"Uhura, are you sure we're getting through? I don't know if he can-"_

"Da, I am here, Keptin!" Chekov burst out quickly, stepping into full view of the screen. Everyone was on the bridge, including Scotty, no doubt still trying to repair the damaged trigger. Kirk turned towards the screen with an exasperated sigh of relief.

"My God, Chekov, what were you _thinking_?" He asked incredulously. He sounded more concerned than frustrated.

Chekov opened his mouth to answer, but Kirk stopped him abruptly.

"No. Don't say anything. You weren't thinking. You put yourself in danger and scared the hell out of everyone," he said. Kirk's tone was stern, like a father scolding a child. Chekov's heart felt heavy with the guilt of causing his friend worry.

"I'm-I'm wery sorry I caused so much trouble, Keptin, but zis ees se only vay to stoop ze veapons. You know zat".

* * *

Kirk searched Chekov's eyes, trying to find something that told him he was lying.

"Scotty, can we beam up yet?" He asked with a sideways glance. The old Scotsman looked beaten, his shoulders sagged as he brought his communicator down from this face.

"The transporter's still down, Cap'n. I-I cannae beam up or down," Scotty answered, his voice quavering just slightly.

Kirk turned back to the young navigator before him. Chekov had a look about himself as if to say, _See? I told you so. This _is _the only way. _They stood for a moment. Eyes locked with each other.

"Keptin," Chekov's voice was hoarse and just barely shaking. "Ze transporter is down and zere is no vay to detonate from ze ship. I know you don't vant eet to be leek zis, but eet is ze only vay. If I don't detonate ze charges from here, ze failsafe will fully actiwate and ze _Enterprise _will be destroyed. And…zat is not somezing I cen allow to happen. Not ven zere is a chance I cen stoop it".

"Pavel, you detonate those charges and you'll die, do you realize that?" Kirk implored desperately. "Kid there has to be something else we can do".

* * *

Chekov began to feel hot tears swell in his eyes at the desperation in his Captain's voice. He was pleading, _begging _for there to be another way. And as much as the young boy wished for an alternative, there simply wasn't one. They had minutes left, four in fact, until the weapons fired and his beloved ship was destroyed. He only hoped Kirk would realize that the only way to save the ship, and all its crew, was to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Keptin, but zere is nozing you cen do," he said.

* * *

Kirk was frozen in place, his eyes locked on the boy in front of him. Chekov was attempting to stand straight, his skinny arms firmly at his sides. In his eyes, he saw tears beginning to form, and the sight nearly caused Kirk to break. Chekov looked so painfully young in that moment. His golden uniform was covered in dirt and grease from working on the console. His messed up brown curls hung close to his face, a strand or two falling in front of his eyes. The sight caused Kirk to feel more useless for what might be one of the first times in his life.

He'd said he didn't believe in situations like this. It was why he'd cheated that day of the Kobayashi Maru. It was why he'd rather break protocol before leaving any one of his crew behind. It was why he tried so hard to keep his ship _and _the ones he loved safe.

And now, here he was staring in the face the choice between the two, this time, with only one side to gain. Kirk had found his no-win scenario, and he didn't know if he'd be able to accept that.

Seventeen was young. It was just too damn young. He wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing the youngest of his family would die before he'd even had a chance to live. The thought of never again hearing _"Keptin on ze bridge!" _as he walked through the door made him sick to his stomach. As he stared down this selfless, brave, too-courageous-for-his-own-damn-good kid, Kirk was hit with a wall of despondency and rage. He was sad and he was angry and it was all because of his surrogate little brother who wouldn't live to see his 18th birthday. The little brother who wouldn't be able to laugh at one of Sulu's god-awful jokes again. The little brother who would no longer be able to weasel his way out of a troublesome situation after a prank on McCoy with that infamous set of "puppy eyes". The little brother who he'd come to love and accept as a part of his family was going to die, and Kirk's mind couldn't accept that.

* * *

Chekov could hear the mental countdown in his head. _Three fifty-nine, three fifty-eight, three fifty-seven. _He wished he could make it stop, but the ticking seconds remained in his mind, slipping away, faster and faster.

For a moment, looking at the screen in front of him, the faces of his family staring back at him, Chekov thought about who he was; who he was really.

He was an ensign, the Russian whiz kid, defined by age and brilliance. The unexpected hero, whose stoutheartedness and acuity helped to save his ship, his home. He was Pavel Andreivich Chekov, loyal brother and forever faithful to the USS _Enterprise. _And now he found himself all alone. But of all odd things, he didn't feel lonely.

His fingers reached out and lightly pressed the thin screen glass separating him from his family. The faintest hint of a smile graced his lips as he imagined himself standing right there with them. In that moment, everything seemed right. He was home. He was safe. He was living the life he'd always wanted. And what a life it would have been. No, he didn't feel lonely, no matter the distance. He could be right there if he wanted to, even if it wasn't real.

Chekov looked up, taking in the bridge, its features, its blemishes; every minute detail he could tuck away safely was now before him, and he wasn't going to let this chance slip through his small fingers. He wanted this to be the last thing he saw. No matter what happened afterward, he'd want these memories to hang on to in his last seconds. The bridge, oh his beloved bridge, was a comforting site. Its pristine walls twinkled against the scintillating, dazzling lights that filled the space with a familiar glow. He could almost hear the tinny clamor of manifold computers, their mechanical minds never ceasing their work. The helm, nearly the same as it was the very first day he'd rested in his seat behind it, was only slightly changed. There was a thin wisp of smoke rising from its side, a scorched blemish staining the top. A few sparks hopped to the floor from it and vanished.

How he wished he could be there one last time. Now, he'd have to settle with a glance into a world that was, and what might have been.

His eyes drifted towards the people he would have shared his life with.

Nyota was crying now, shameless tears falling down her cheeks. How he would miss her story telling, the way she was able to spin a tale of adventure and wonder that Chekov could so easily lose himself in. He'd miss the way she'd sing to him whenever he was sick. She never suspected he'd be awake when she'd come into his quarters to check on him, but one time he'd been unable to fall into rest, so she sang him a lullaby she knew from her childhood. Chekov would miss the way he could occasionally slip into his native language when he was feeling homesick, and Nyota would pick right back up with conversation in near-perfect Russian.

Scotty looked like he was trying his very best to remain stoic, though his reddening eyes showed just how emotionally drained he really was. It hurt Chekov to think that he'd never make another appointment to shadow Scotty down in engineering. They'd never get to try out their combined design for the warp core. He'd never again get to sit with him down in the viewing console in engineering, where'd they talk for hours about each other's homes while gazing out at the stars. Chekov had promised the old engineer that once he was able to drink, he'd show him just how much better vodka was than scotch. It was odd, knowing he'd never get that chance now.

McCoy had his arms crossed firmly against his chest, his hands curled tightly into fists. His eyes were teary, and threatened to give way at any moment. Chekov remembered the first day he'd met the cynical, grumpy man of a doctor down in med bay. He'd tried to convince the stubborn doctor that "eet vas only a sprained wrist" and he was "still fit for duty on ze bridge". McCoy had given him a response somewhere along the lines of "just a sprained wrist my ass" and made him stay off work for two whole days, much to the boy's annoyance. They'd bonded well though, after an unfortunate nightmare had Bones all but breaking into Chekov's room after he'd heard the boy screaming in the middle of the night. He'd watched over him until he fell asleep, and always kept a close eye on him ever since; partially because the kid always found himself in med bay one way or another with some form of injury.

Spock was hard to read, but then again, he never was. With his Vulcan and human side constantly at war, there was no easy way in deducing what the man was feeling at any given moment. Chekov could see something there though. Concern? Grief? He used to think the man absolutely hated him, especially after the incident on Vulcan; after he'd lost his mother. Chekov had spent weeks in harrowing distress, wondering what he could have done differently. Could he have been faster? Could he have just let someone else taken the controls? There had been a particularly bad day, however, where Chekov had isolated himself in the mess hall after his shift. He hadn't even looked at his food. All he'd done was stare blankly at the table, the image of Spock's outstretched hand, the look of desperation, eyes searching for a mother who wasn't there, replaying again and again in his mind. He was surprised when he found the Vulcan quite suddenly sitting across from him at the table. They talked for some time, Spock logically reassuring the young boy that there was no rationality in blaming himself. To Chekov's even greater surprise, he shared stories about his mother, and Chekov felt obliged to do the same. After all, he'd lost his mother when he was young too. It was a rare encounter with the green-blooded man that Chekov cherished for a long time.

Sulu, oh god Sulu; Chekov could barely look at his best friend without the threat of tears spilling forth. They'd been practically inseparable since the academy. Hikaru was one of his only friends, and he grew to love him like a brother. He trusted him with his life, and confided with him when he had no one else to turn to. They knew practically everything about the other, including hobbies and quirks that others took time to pick up on. Sulu loved plants; he was a botanist in his heart nearly as much as a pilot. Chekov remembered the tiny garden Hikaru used to keep on the window sill in the dorm room they shared. It was always blooming no matter what season, and the flowers were a mesmerizing gold. He also loved fencing; something he'd been introducing to Chekov recently. They were supposed to practice tomorrow after Beta shift, but Chekov realized he wasn't going to make the appointment. He knew Hikaru would be okay without him. He was strong.

Kirk's face was the last one he focused on. He looked so…broken; so defeated. Chekov couldn't stand to see his Captain that way. Kirk was supposed to be smiling, grinning from ear to ear mischievously, and keeping everyone's spirits high and happy. Seeing his older brother so discouraged was more painful than most pain he'd ever felt. He wanted to go to him; to tell him everything would be okay. But he was stuck here, on this hallow base, his life time riding the hands of a clock as the countdown neared its end. Chekov didn't know what he'd miss the most, whether it was racing down the corridors with Kirk at his side and Bones on their heels, irritated beyond all reason because of some prank they'd pulled on him, or listening to the Captain recount stories of his days at Starfleet, and the adventures he'd had as a kid. But what he did know was he didn't have much time left, and he needed his friends to know that things were going to be okay. He sucked in a breath; it was shaky from trying to hold back his tears.

"I don't zink I could haff asked for a better life," he began, his voice quavering every now and again. "Zese times vith you hawe been ze best, and more zan I ewer could haff hoped for. Zere is not a day zat goes by zat I don't zank everzing for the life I hawe been able to live. I know zis seems bad and, it does noot seem hopeful, but I vant you to know hov zankful I am for you all. You vere alvays zere vhen I needed someone, and alvays zere to protect me. How amazing it vas to make not only friends, but a family". He smiled, really smiled, because now they knew how much he cared and loved them. "Zank you," he finished, "for everzing".

There was a long moment of silence. Just as Kirk opened his mouth to speak, the transmission lost connection and ended. The screen was once again black, and the console room was once again silent. Chekov felt a few tears run down his cheek as his hand reached forward to touch the glass that had held the final images of the people he loved most in this world.

_Goodbye, _he thought.

Chekov looked to the console; the flashing blue screen read "enter code for detonation". He took in a deep breath.

This was it.

* * *

Kirk stood in paralysis for a moment after the screen turned black. He didn't know how long it was. A few seconds? A minute?

"No," he said blatantly. "No. No. No. NO!" He punched the helm in front of him. No this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It just wasn't _fair. _He needed them. They needed him.

"Scotty," Kirk pleaded weakly, "Is there any way we can-"

He was never able to finish his sentence. It was weird how, in that moment, as he turned round towards the helm that gave them a perfect view of the base, time seemed to slow down. All day, time was moving too fast, and now, it felt as though it were crawling to an agonizing end.

Kirk watched as the entire base suddenly exploded into a brilliant ball of golden light. The entire structure was consumed instantly, like a black hole devouring anything in its sight. The force of the blast caused the ship to toss to the right, and all onboard the bridge attempted to stay upright as the _Enterprise _attempted to keep itself steady.

As the vessel became still once more, Kirk found he could not force his eyes away from the helm. There was nothing except rubble and debris left. The Space he had found himself so accustomed to had never felt more cold; more empty.

Somewhere, someone screamed out. Kirk couldn't tell who it was. He didn't care. There was a pounding in his ears, and only one thought occupying his mind.

The thought that he was gone.

His little brother was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chekov's hands hovered over the glowing computer board console. He had to enter the code now or risk the charges not detonating in time. It would take exactly two minutes for the signal to reach and activate every explosive. There was now a little more than three minutes left. Talk about cutting it close.

As Chekov began typing in the final detonation code, there suddenly came an awful, ear-splitting groan from across the room. The massive metal door he'd noticed when he'd first entered the room rose up, revealing something Chekov really wished he was just imagining. It was another Klingon, whose eyes, upon scanning the room, narrowed dangerously in anger. The man spotted him and brought out a nasty-looking, very jagged, very _sharp, _knife from his belt. There was absolutely no time left for this. Even if he could somehow find the strength to overcome another enemy that size, there was no way he'd be able to activate the charges in time. With renewed life, Chekov's finger flew across the keypad and entered the long series of corresponding letters and numbers. When he entered the final key, a new countdown lit up; this one beginning at two minutes.

_Done,_ he thought. As he turned round, Chekov's heart nearly leapt from his chest as a shiny glint of metal came flying towards his face. He ducked out of the way and under the arm of his attacker. He jumped up behind him, landing a firm kick to the man's back; one with enough force to knock him to the ground. Chekov looked around frantically for a place to run to, and his eyes caught sight of something that made every part of him freeze. There, beyond the metal door, they sat; three of them- all evenly spaced between each other.

_Escape pods. _

The single thought was so crazy and such a long-shot, he wondered if he should laugh at even considering it. But hell, hadn't every thought he'd had that day been pretty much in that same realm of impossibility? Chekov's eyes flickered back to the countdown. He had one minute and thirty-seconds. _Alvays cooting zings so close, _he thought. The realization that someone was still in the room with him came half a second too late. He felt an arm wrap around his neck and pull him backward. He vaguely noticed a sharp jolt to the lower half of his stomach as his arms attempted to remove the hold on him. His muscles remembered the basic self-defense Sulu had insisted he'd learn before he went on his first away mission. Chekov twisted the man's thumb to the right and caused him to release his hold. Taking advantage of the opening, he brought the Klingon's arm down on over his shoulder until there was a distinct _crack. _

The man screamed in agonizing pain and dropped to the floor, cradling his shattered limb. Chekov was breathing heavily and attempting to catch his breath. A spared glance at the countdown told him he had about a minute left before the entire structure he was standing on was wiped out of existence. With fervent will, he took off running towards the pods.

_Fifty-nine, fifty-eight._ He'd really need to pick up the pace.

_Fifty-seven, fifty six._ _Come on, _he reprimanded himself, _you veren't starfleet's youngest cadet to win zat marathon for nozing. Move faster! _

_Fifty-five, fifty four._ Man was he going to need a nap after this. He just hoped he'd make it out in time to get one.

_Fifty-three, fifty-two._ He guessed he'd never realized how short a minute was until now.

He had nearly reached the pods when a sudden pain wrenched itself forward, and Chekov's hand flew to his stomach. He continued to run; there was no time for slowing down, as he brought it back up to his face. His fingers were slick with blood, the crimson staining his already pale skin. There was a burning sensation that felt as though it were tearing his skin apart with every furious step he took. Chekov's eyes squeezed shut in pain as he finally reached one of the escape pods. Fingers wet with blood, he struggled to keep hold of the keypad that he needed to enter in an activation code for. They'd slip nearly every other second, and he'd curse lightly at his seemingly simple, yet onerous endeavor.

_Twenty-eight, twenty-seven._ He was nearly done.

_Twenty-six. Twenty-five._ His stomach felt like it was on fire, and he struggled to breathe evenly.

_Twenty-four. Twenty-three._ He kept his fingers steady as he activated the launch sequence for the pod.

Chekov used what remaining strength he had left to wrench open the hulking door and pull himself inside. With one hand covering his wound, he latched the door tight, completely ignoring the safety belts to strap himself in. He didn't have time for precaution. If he waited any longer, there wouldn't be anything left to be precautious about.

_Eleven. Ten_. God he hoped this would work.

_Nine. Eight._ He punched the red launch button that glowed against the wall.

_Seven. Six._ He felt himself pulled back as the pod shot through a series of tubes.

_Five. Four._ The shuttle rocketed out into space. He could see the base out of the small viewing window.

_Three. Two._ The blood staining his shirt continued to spread, and he felt his eyes waning in their effort to remain open.

_One._

The explosion took on full force as it burst through the windows and walls of the base. The golden fire tore apart everything. The power of the detonation reached the small escape pod in a second, slamming into it with the power of a tsunami wave. Chekov felt himself thrown backwards violently, his arms unavailable in aiding him. His head slammed into the wall of the shuttle, and suddenly he only knew darkness.

All was silent.

* * *

There's many ways to hurt someone; so many ways of inflicting pain upon the deepest parts of someone's self, laced with despair and despondency.

There's emotional pain; the kind that keeps you awake at night. It's the kind of pain that infiltrates your safest dwelling, your mind, your escape, and feeds on what you might have once considered happiness; the kind of pain causing a swirling maelstrom throughout your conscience is a reckonable force that can claim even the strongest of wills.

There's, of course, the physical pain: the cry of agony after feeling a bone separate into two parts, the throbbing sting of a residual bruise, the horrible stinging sensation of a cut emanating blood.

Then there's the pain of watching your best friend, you brother, the one person in this world you could have shared _anything _with, die. That pain will writhe inside you, making you absolutely sick to your stomach. It will fasten itself to your aching heartstrings and slowly, agonizingly, tear them apart. That pain will make your blood run cold; God knows if any fire will ever warm it again. Because how could you feel any more warmth after losing someone that gave you life and will? How could the light ever come shining through the darkness that will consume you? You might have once cared about the beauty of the world: the stars in the sky, the sun, the moon. You may have seen beauty in everything. But now you don't want to. You don't want the stars or the sun. Not without him. They aren't beautiful anymore, and it's because of that pain that hollows out your chest to an empty, abandoned void.

Sulu didn't know he'd screamed at first, but frankly, he didn't care. His mouth was so dry, and what came forth was a hoarse, harrowing cry. He was on his feet before his mind could comprehend what he was doing. He was racing now, but didn't know where to go; his acute mind spinning a mile a minute and pulling up blank after blank after blank. Surely there was somewhere he could find; somewhere he could hide away, curl into himself, and let the blackness shield him from the pain that threatened to erupt. There was an awful feeling in his chest. It wasn't physical, yet hurt with all the ferocity of an aching wound.

Sulu found himself standing outside the entrance to Chekov's room; the one adjacent to his own. He let out a deep breath, his chest heaving from running all the way there. The accustomed action of raising his hand to knock nearly took over…until he realized there would be no one there to answer. Chekov had long since given him the override access code to his room; partly just in case he'd fallen asleep while working and his friend needed to come check on him, mostly because he trusted him. Sulu used it to let himself in.

The room was dark; the only light filtering through the doorway illuminated the area just slightly. There were a few pieces of clothing strewn across the floor, and a blanket laying in a precarious heap on the edge of the bed. Chekov had a desk that was somewhat organized; mostly papers and folders stacked in piles. There were shelves above his bed that contained most of the personal items he owned: his books, a few pictures, and a small music box that he'd always kept to remind him of his home. It was a small, wooden box that was hand-painted in many brilliant colors. On the inside was a small angel, that when opened, would spin slowly and emit a small lullaby. On more than one occasion, Sulu had heard Chekov playing with the box, sometimes on a particularly bad day if he was upset. He'd always said it reminded him of the song his mother would sing to him when he couldn't sleep.

Sulu reached for the small toy, careful not to move anything else. The wood was worn and tarnished, the colors chipping in age. He turned it over in his hands a few times, taking in the beauty of such a beloved ornament. He lifted open the top and sure enough, the small angel began twirling, the soothing tune filling the quiet room. It was a simple song, but so very beautiful in its sound. The lullaby caused memories to flood before Sulu's eyes: the first time he'd met Chekov at the academy, the time they'd gotten lost on an off-world trip and nearly missed the shuttle back to Earth; the way he smiled so brightly, his green eyes full of wonder and happiness, and the way he hummed softly to himself when he thought no one else was listening; the fact that he hated silence, and was always tapping his foot or his fingers to fill the quiet, or how sometimes he'd sneak out to the observation deck at night to see the stars. Every tiny detail he'd ever noticed was suddenly before him, and his exhale of breath began to waver as his shoulders shook. Tears began falling down his face, slipping soundlessly to the carpet beneath him. He didn't want to face that fact that Chekov was gone. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't accept it. It just wasn't _fair. _

He was only a kid, a baby in the likeness of their family. He was their little ray of sunshine in times of darkness and despair. He was always there when someone needed cheering up, even if he was the one who needed it more. Sulu felt that the world tried so hard to dim that childlike innocence that gleamed in Chekov's eyes, but he always found a way to rise beyond the sorrow that tried to find its way to him. Chekov always retained that gleam of happiness in his bearing; in his laughter. It was one of the reasons the bridge crew gravitated toward him.

The thought, the notion, the reality, that Sulu would never, _ever _again get to hear that heartwarming laugh; it broke something inside of him. In a sudden rush of dismal rage, he turned around and smashed his fist against the mirror above the nightstand. It shattered beneath the force, and fell to the ground in fragments of broken glass. He fell to his knees, his fingers grasping the carpet. A heart wrenching sob racked his body, and more tears fell from his face. All at once he hated the world; hated this ship.

Hated himself. He wasn't able to save his little brother: a person he swore to protect with his life.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the tears cascading past his chin, "I'm so, so sorry".

He stayed there in the darkness; the music of the box coming to a softened stop.

* * *

Kirk wanted to wake up. He needed to wake up. He had to open his eyes to find himself in his own bed because this had to be a nightmare; that was the _only _way this could actually be happening. Chekov couldn't just be _dead; _God even thinking it was nauseating. He was seventeen years old; a kid. He was supposed to grow up and live a long and happy life with his family; not die alone in some godforsaken enemy base. Kirk's mind rejected the thought of never again seeing his little brother. His eyes unwillingly drifted towards the navigation console, where Ensign Darwin sat gaping at him with eyes full of sympathy and shock. He tried to imagine the hyperactive little Russian sitting there like he always did, fingers drumming in anticipation or constantly messing with the sleeves of his shirt. He'd be working on some complicated telemetry or engineering designs; maybe analyzing some new information about a mission they'd received. Chekov wasn't there though. He was gone. And he was never coming back.

There came a slight mess of static from behind him: Scotty's communicator transmitted a message from one of the engineers.

"Mister Scott," came the excited voice from the other end, "Transporter capabilities are back online, sir. We can beam up at-"

Scotty didn't give the man a chance to finish. He grabbed the communicator and hurled it through the air. It smashed against the wall of the bridge and shattered into multiple pieces. Scotty stayed at the station where he stood, arms gripping it like a lifeline. His head was bowed; refusing to look up at anyone. Kirk remembered what he'd told Scotty before they'd went out on their away mission, the tormented memory resurfacing painfully.

_"Scotty, he's going to be fine. We'll protect one another. I'm not gonna let anything happen to him. I promise"._

He was never supposed to break that promise. He was supposed to bring Chekov back; supposed to make sure he was okay. Kirk was now faced with his own words, and the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he hadn't been able to keep them. He'd done everything; he'd tried _everything. _But it hadn't been enough. He'd failed at the one thing he promised he'd do above all else; above regulations and protocol, and above his own safety. He'd failed at protecting the people he loved, and it was, without any opposition, the worst failure he'd ever felt in his life.

He felt a tear slip soundlessly down his cheek. He didn't reach up to brush it away, though. He didn't care enough now. He didn't care enough now at all. Kirk felt a burning wave of despondency rolling around inside him, filling him with anger and despair. If he'd just been _faster; _dammit, if he'd just found some way around the failsafe, around this entire situation, then maybe he wouldn't have lost one of the only people in this entire desolate, cold, miserable, _godforsaken _world that he loved. The crushing guilt pulled at him like a five-thousand pound weight. A familiar voice kept him at bay.

"Captain," Spock said lowly. Kirk felt a swell of anger building inside him. All the emotion he'd kept bottled up the entire day because "that's what a good captain is _supposed to do"_ suddenly surfaced, and he tried his best to keep the sweltering rage inside. "I know that the situation at hand seems…immutable, but Jim, I believe we should-"

"Don't," Kirk seethed as he closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry Captain, I was merely attempting to-"

"I said. Don't."

This caused the Vulcan man to bow his head in respect, silencing anything else he may have been previously deciding to put forth. Kirk felt the urge to apologize, but he couldn't; not without the risk of releasing his anger on the people that least deserved it. He wanted to get away from the eyes that looked to him for guidance. They were waiting now; for their next order, for their next instruction. It was just that Kirk didn't know what to do. He just didn't. He felt lost as he looked out of the viewing window on the bridge, eyes resting on bits of rubble twirling soundlessly through the air. He couldn't think of a single thing to say because God knows there's nothing that won't just drift through the air where his little brother should be walking. There was a quick, selfish moment where he thought about just leaving; running to his room and hiding away, when someone shouted out with a hurried voice.

"Captain-Captain Kirk!" The voice nearly screamed out. Kirk turned around so quickly, he nearly lost his balance. The voice belonged to Lieutenant Brinson, one of the officers in charge of monitoring the away team. His eyes were frantic, and Kirk's heart began pounding in his chest.

"Lieutenant, what is it?" He asked hurriedly.

The man took in a breath, his voice excited and shaking. "Sir, I hadn't noticed before since the away team returned, but the bio signs are still active…including Ensign Chekov's". He pulled up a holograph of the young boy's bio sign data. Kirk's heart leapt into his throat. Could it be true?

"Is it possible? Is he still alive?" He wasted no time in asking. Every thought in his head was spinning now, his mind racing. Brinson frantically typed away at his computer PADD, bringing up scans of data and information. His excitement faltered for a moment, causing Kirk's heart to quicken its beating.

"According to the readings, sir, he's alive, but just barely. He's unconscious, and his vital signs are extremely low," Brinson read off hesitantly. That was enough for Kirk.

"I want an immediate scan on the entire area surrounding this ship. We're looking for anything that could sustain life. Go, do it now!" He ordered. Everyone quickly went to work, a renewed vigor in their demeanor. Kirk almost felt a smile crawl onto his face. Pavel was alive. He was_ alive. _The exultation that now consumed him was nearly overshadowed by the fact that "alive" meant "just barely". _No, he's alive. We can save him. Forget about that, _Kirk thought. Chekov was going to be fine. Kirk promised himself that; and this wasn't one he'd ever let himself break. He turned back towards Brinson.

"Is there anything you can give me on his current condition?" Kirk asked. The officer typed away, enacting a scan of the bio sign in front of him. Three red dots appeared on the hologram: one on the right side of the face, one on the back of the head, and one on the lower left abdomen.

"These are the registered injuries, Captain," Brinson replied. I can't tell you what caused them, but I can tell you that the head and face injuries are from a blunt force to the afflicted area".

Kirk hesitantly asked his next question, dread building inside him. "What about the third one?"

Brinson's hands faltered over the computer. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he took in a breath through his nose. "From what the scans are reading, it seems to be some form of a puncture wound. This injury is what's causing the most damage right now. I believe he's lost a lot of blood by this point".

Before Kirk could ask how bad the wound really was, an officer shouted from behind him. "Captain! We've identified one object in the realm about the _Enterprise. _It looks to be like some form of a small shuttle. Readings report one occupant, unconscious at the moment."

Kirk was already to the doors. "Scotty, McCoy! You're with me. We're heading to the transporter room. Now."

With no hesitation, Scotty and Bones were at the exit in a matter of seconds. Both their eyes were frenetic, full of concern and questions.

"How badly is he hurt?" McCoy asked forwardly. Kirk was hesitant in elucidating just how dire the situation was.

"I never said that he-"

"Dammit Jim," he interrupted. "I need to know what I'm going to be dealing with. That's the only way I'm going to be able to help him, okay?"

Kirk looked to his feet and sucked in a breath. McCoy was right. They needed to know what they'd be walking into. "He's got a puncture wound to the stomach. We don't know how bad it is, but the scans say he's not doing good".

Bones cursed and pulled out his communicator. "I need a medical unit down at transportation now". There came an unclear response, but it seemed to satisfy the old doctor enough to snap the device closed. He looked to the two men before him. "Come on," he said "let's go get our Russian back."

They took off running through the hallways, passing crewmembers with wide eyes, probably wondering why the Captain, head engineer, and CMO were frantically racing through the corridors of the ship. Scotty nearly slipped, but Kirk grabbed his arm and hauled him back to a standing position. They couldn't afford to waste any time. There were sharp turns and plenty of near-collisions, but they were finally able to reach the transporter room. A few officers stood around the main console, surprised to see the Captain entering before them. They quickly stood at attention.

"Outta tha way, outta tha way!" Scotty pushed through. He quickly began prepping the console, searching for a signal to lock on to. Kirk stood beside him, anxious in anticipation. The only sound audible was the clicking of the buttons as Scotty typed away on one of the PADDs.

"I've got a signal! Locking on now!" He shouted excitedly. "Hang on laddie, we're gettin' ya," he whispered just enough so that only Kirk could hear.

The transporter began humming as it prepared to beam aboard. A flash of light appeared on one of the spaces on the pad, and slowly, a swirling flicker of golden brilliance began twirling into existence. Kirk watched in trepidation as it began to solidify into a body. The boy was not standing, but rather sideways on the floor. As the last bit of light vanished from the transporter pad, Kirk nearly cried out in relief at that sight of his Ensign; though the relief only lasted a second as he took in his condition. Chekov was unmoving, lying supine on the ground. His face was marred by dirt, partly covering the bluing bruise on his cheek. The thing that made Kirk stop short, though, was the blood stain enveloping the boy's small body. His golden shirt was colored scarlet, and the blood was pooling on his side.

Kirk and Bones sprinted to his side, and crashed to their knees beside him. Bones placed a hand over the bleeding wound in an effort to staunch the flow. Kirk looked to the medical officer with eyes full of anxiety. Knowing that Bones could read him in a single glance, Kirk wasn't surprised with the man's response.

"Jim, right now, I need you to focus. That's the only way we're going to be able to help him".

Kirk nodded in understanding. His head snapped towards the entrance as the medical team came bursting through the door. Three medical officers kneeled beside McCoy, and quickly began attending to the young boy before them. They rattled off scans and data that Kirk could vaguely recognize thanks to Bones' constant pestering about him learning basic medical treatment. They wrapped a white, make-shift bandage around Chekov's stomach, and then Bones looked up to him.

"We need to get him down to medical now. Don't have time to wait for a stretcher. Grab him, but careful of the wrapping. We've got to block the bleeding as long as we can," he ordered. He then looked back towards the Ensign, his voice low, as if he were talking to himself. "Kid's lost a lot of blood".

Kirk quickly swooped in, carefully lifting the boy into his arms. He was so light, and he had no trouble shifting him to a better position. Kirk hurried out the doorway and towards medbay, McCoy right on his heels. Chekov's head lolled limply against his chest, causing Kirk to quicken his pace.

"Stay with me, kid," he whispered. They were once again fighting the clock, and Kirk was determined to beat it this time.

"Hang in there, Pavel. Just hang on, please".

**a/n: Thank you so much for all your touching reviews and support. Now that exams are over, things can get back to normal. If you'd like to listen to the song that the music box Sulu had played, this is it: watch?v=vJw3qwZw1d4 I know I always say it, but I can't thank you enough for your support! I hope you all are doing well and have a wonderful day!**


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n: I want to start out by apologizing greatly for the long wait. I've been sick these past few days, and it's been absolutely terrible trying to write. Anyway, I suppose it has finally come to that time...the ending. It's been so much fun writing this story, and all your support and reviews have meant so much to me. I never expected the feedback this story would get, and I'm forever grateful to all of my lovely readers.**

**In regards to the future, I never really planned on staying around for long, but with such wonderful people throughout this website who enjoyed this story, maybe I can stick around a while longer and play with some ideas I've been itching to get down. I truly cannot thank you enough on your encouragement and support.**

**In true Star Trek goodbye fashion, May you all Live Long and Prosper.**

* * *

Kirk's feet slammed against the floor as he headed towards medbay as fast as he could possibly manage. A corner here. Two lefts there. A long stretch of a corridor next. He knew this ship like the back of his hand, but never before had it seemed so huge.

They were nearly there, only one hallway away, when things went from bad to worse; and considering the day they'd been through, that was definitely saying something. Kirk felt Chekov violently flinch in his arms, and a stream of blood came trickling out the side of his mouth. There was a strangled gasp emitting from his lips, as if he was struggling to get air. Kirk continued running, a fervent will pushing him onward with speed he didn't really know he had. Despite the boy's rapidly worsening condition, he was able to stay rather calm; that is, until the convulsions started.

Chekov began to spasm uncontrollably. Kirk gritted his teeth, tightening his grip in an effort to not drop the boy.

"Bones!" He yelled over his shoulder. He quickly slowed to a stop, allowing for McCoy to catch up and look over Chekov. He'd begun gasping for air painfully, an anguished groan passing by his lips as his chest heaved upward. He coughed violently, more blood spilling over the edge of his mouth.

"Damn it!" McCoy cursed as he reached into his medical bag and began searching for something.

"What's wrong?" Kirk's panic-stricken voice echoed down the last stretch of hallway. He rubbed his thumb on the side of Chekov's arm to try and calm him down.

Bones grabbed a hypospray and filled it with a thin, red-tinged liquid. "His lungs are filling with blood," he said as he quickly injected the substance into the boy's neck. "Damn knife must have punctured one of em' too." He ungracefully shoved the hypo back into its carrier and slung the bag back over his shoulder. "Keep his back forward. We're almost there".

Kirk nodded gravely and repositioned Chekov so that he was just barely leaning forward. They rapidly sprinted down the last stretch of hallway to medbay. Bones ran in ahead and quickly began prepping a bio bed, his hands flying mechanically with medical precision.

"Set him down over here!" He yelled. Kirk brought Chekov toward the vacant bed and laid him down as gently as possible. The boy was still convulsing violently, and Kirk held down his arms to keep him still.

"Pavel listen to me. Everything's going to be okay. Just hang in there. Doctor McCoy's going to fix you up good as new," he told him calmly. "I'm not gonna lose you again".

As if some of what he said got through, Chekov started to slowly relax; the spasms dying down to almost nothing. His skin was gravely pallid, and his forehead was damp with sweat; the golden-brown curls sticking to his face. Kirk felt a pain inside of him at the sight of his youngest crewmember. It didn't seem right that, in this condition, he was finally able to grasp just how young the boy actually was.

Bones was busy tending to Chekov's condition. He'd carefully inserted a tube into his mouth in order to draw out the blood that was filling his lungs. From there he continued the basics: inserting an IV, hooking up a heart rate monitor, and undressing the blood-soaked bandages around his middle. He let out a breath of disbelief at the sight of the gash, but quickly composed himself and continued working.

No sooner had Kirk thought that things might actually be getting better, the heart rate monitor sky-rocketed, and Chekov's back arched off the bed in pain. He let forth a harrowing cry, and began screaming out at seemingly nothing.

"Bones what's happening!" Kirk yelled above the confusion. He struggled to keep Chekov still as he continued to cry out in fear.

McCoy had rushed back from his office with another vial of liquid, this one a dark blue. He filled a second hypospray and slipped it into its holding canister; snapping shut the lid and making sure no air escaped the container. He reached forward and injected it onto the side of Chekov's neck, and Kirk winced in sympathy at the sight. "I think he's havin' some sort of nightmare!" Bones answered frantically. "Almost like he's stuck inside his own head!"

"Well can we get through to him?" Kirk asked, his tone overwrought and distressed.

McCoy looked distraught, his eyes filled with anxiety and uncertainty. "At this rate, I don't know if he'll be able to hear us. He's too far deep in his own mind. I'm afraid that if we can't wake him up, he might fall into a coma. There's no telling what could happen from there. We may not be able to get to him from out here, but maybe if someone went in after him, we'd have a shot at bringing him back".

Kirk, knowing Bones as well as he did, knew exactly what the old doctor meant. He snatched his comm off of his belt and called up to the bridge.

"Captain?" Spock's stoic voice answered him smoothly. Kirk wasted no time in requesting his presence.

"Spock I need you down in medbay now. We think you might be able to help Chekov".

With no hesitation whatsoever, Spock simply replied, "I'll be there as soon as I can, Captain". Kirk took in a deep breath to relax his frenzied nerves; he really hoped this would work. He turned towards Chekov and bent down to his knees, taking a small, pale hand into his own.

He leaned in close towards the boy's ear to whisper. "Pavel if you can hear me, we're coming for you. Just hang on. I need you to fight, alright? I know you can. Stay with me, kid".

* * *

Spock made it down to medbay in record time; how he was able to do it, Kirk would never really know. He led him over to the bio bed where Chekov was still mildly thrashing about, mumbling cries throughout his tormented sleep.

"You say he's been this way since he arrived back on the ship?" Spock questioned.

"Right before we got him here. We haven't been able to get to him since," Kirk answered, running a nervous hand through his hair. He took in a breath before asking his next question. "Spock, your telepathic link, the mind meld, can it work two ways?"

The first officer turned towards him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "I'm not sure as to what you-"

"Will I be able to go in after him," Kirk interrupted suddenly, "can you link the two of us so that I can see if I can reach him?"

Spock paused for a moment, genuinely taking into consideration the information he'd just been offered. "I have no memory of such an action being performed before," he spoke honestly, "but perhaps, if I were able to mind meld with you and Chekov simultaneously, you may be able to enter his mind and retrieve him".

That was more than enough for Kirk. "Alright," he said, "let's do it".

McCoy, who'd been quite distracted in wrapping more bandages around Chekov's wound until then, suddenly spoke up. "Oh whoa, now hang on just a minute. Jim, what makes you think you're capable of doing this?" He asked, voice laced with disbelief and concern.

Kirk turned towards him. "This is our only chance to bring him back. We clearly can't get to him from out here and there's no way of getting through without going in after him," he argued. He understood where his friend was coming from, but this was a risk he was fully willing to take if it meant saving Chekov.

"Yeah but what happens if you can't get him to wake up? What if you end up stuck there too?" He threw back. Kirk thought about that for a moment, trying to formulate a response.

Spock beat him to it, however. "I will be able to retrieve Jim shall the circumstances prove necessary," he asserted, "but if he is not able to reach Chekov, I will have no way of bringing both of them back".

Silence hung in the air. "What happens if I can't bring him back," Kirk pointed his question towards McCoy. "What happens if he doesn't wake up?"

Bones let out a pained exhale; glancing towards the young boy on the bio bed, who was now mumbling something frantically in Russian. "I won't be able to fully repair the wound unless he's awake. In this condition, he'd just break apart every remedy I could try. If he doesn't come back…I…I don't know if he's going to make it."

There was a second, only a second, where Kirk said nothing, and simply took in the ultimatum McCoy had just given him. He had to bring Chekov back. He just _had _to. The boy had already saved everyone's lives today; now it was time for them to repay the debt.

"Link us up Spock," Kirk finally decided, "I'm going in after him".

The first officer nodded in understanding and motioned for him to stand near the bio bed. Kirk did as he was told and took Chekov's hand in his own for a moment, fingers brushing over the kid's blood-stained knuckles. "I'm coming for ya, Pavel. Don't you worry." He took in a deep breath to ready himself and, just like he'd done earlier, he prayed; to what, well, he didn't really know, but he prayed he wouldn't fail in saving his little brother a second time.

"Stand perfectly still," Spock ordered. He reached his long, thin fingers forward and touched them to Chekov's forehead and temple, then did the same to Kirk. There was a moment where nothing happened, and then suddenly, a brilliant flash of white blinded Kirk, and he was thrust forward from consciousness into a new mind.

He saw flashes of Spock's past as their minds began transferring memories; the familiar feeling of shared experience waving over him quickly.

Now he felt himself falling into a void of blackness, but he failed to find his voice in time to scream out. His eyes shut in preparation for whatever might be at the bottom of his fall, but oddly enough, pain never came.

Instead he found himself lying sideways in something soft and very, very, cold.

_Snow, _he recognized. He was resting on top of a freshly fallen layer of the stuff, and it was still coming down as he stood up and brushed the flakes off his uniform.

The sky was a deep gray; blotchy clouds hiding the sun and creating a rather dreary atmosphere. It must have been somewhere in the below zero temperatures, and Kirk tried to find his hands warmth as he brought them up to his mouth and breathed air on them. His breath created a small cloud and quickly evaporated into nothing.

The buildings around him looked vacant, as did the broken cobblestone street on which he was now walking. The street signs he read were written in a foreign language, one Kirk thought looked oddly familiar.

He had only just realized where this particular memory he found himself in was set when a flash of blue brushed by his legs, and ran off around one of the buildings lining the street.

Kirk inched slowly towards the place he'd seen whatever ran past him taken refuge in, and peeked his head around the corner. A small child sat hunched at the end of the alleyway of two buildings, his head resting on his knees. It was only when Kirk slowly got closer that he realized the small boy was crying, his tiny shoulders shaking as he whimpered in the cold.

In an attempt to not startle the kid, Kirk carefully approached him and got down on the haunches of his legs. "Hello?" He asked softly. The boy didn't seem to notice, as he continued to cry.

Kirk reached forward, only to gasp in surprise as his hand passed right through the child sitting in front of him. He pulled his hand away in surprise, and looked around, wondering if anyone else was able to see him.

The boy suddenly looked up, and Kirk was met with familiar, brilliant green eyes.

"Chekov?" He breathed. The boy still didn't seem to notice; he only continued to cry as tears slid down his cheeks. He whispered something softly; barely audible.

"мама," he spoke through tears; his shaky breath ensuing a new round of heartbreaking sobs. Kirk couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The kid had that same mess of curly hair, except now it was slightly lighter, more golden. He was so tiny, too. He wished he could make his presence known; maybe he'd be able to help the boy in some way.

Before he got a chance to even try, Kirk suddenly felt himself pulled away from the painful memory; the world beginning to blur around him. The landscape and sky all faded into blackness, as did the buildings around him. The last thing he saw before being thrust to a new destination was the crying little boy, huddled in a corner in the cold, unforgiving snow.

Kirk now found himself glimpsing into Chekov's past, the memories surfacing quickly before fading out once more.

He saw a young boy, maybe by the age of eight, being teased on a blacktop in the school yard. Some other children, ones much taller than him, were holding books above the smaller boy's head, teasing him in Russian and laughing as he tried in vain to jump and grab his belongings. The memory quickly melted into a new one.

This time, the boy was about 14, standing at the door of a small home, a single suitcase in hand. He was in an argument with an older man, maybe 35, who bore a striking resemblance to the child in front of him.

"You vill not enlist! I forbid it!" He cried out.

"You cenoot tell me vhat I cen do! Eet is my life! I cen choose vhat I vant to do vith it!" The boy yelled back. He opened the door and stepped out, before turning back around and saying, "I am no longer a child. You cenoot keep treating me like von." With those final words, he slammed the door shut, leaving the older man standing there in silence.

A new memory emerged now, in a place Kirk knew and remembered. The same boy, who now looked to be only a little bit older, sprinted across the Starfleet academy gymnasium. There were several older cadets behind him, running with fervent speed after him. The boy nearly reached the exit when he tripped over a loose cable that lay spread across the floor. He sprawled out on the ground; groaning in pain as he attempted to stand and once again run. His effort was in vain as his chasers caught up; one grabbing him roughly by the shirt and hauling him to his feet. They said nothing, only proceeded to lay into him, delivering blow after blow of painful force. The kid was shoved to the ground, and screamed out in agonizing pain as one of the attackers brought down his foot onto his leg. There was a sickening _crack, _and the boy stayed there, shaking and crying in pain. There was a distant, familiar voice that yelled out and caused the older cadets to flee out the exit door.

Before Kirk had a chance to process the memory he was currently in, he was pushed forward through the darkness into a new one, this time, in an all too familiar setting. He stood in one of the hallways of the _Enterprise, _the lights softly glowing throughout the ceiling. A quick flash of gold caught his eyes as it flew passed him and down a corner. He chased after it, knowing exactly who he was pursuing. Kirk followed him all the way to the transporter room, arriving just in time to see himself and Sulu roughly transported back aboard the ship. The boy, now looking closer in resemblance to the last time Kirk had seen him, jumped up and excitedly yelled out something in Russian, a widening smile never leaving his face.

The memory flashed forward, the same room was still it's setting; except this time, the boy suddenly cried out in distress as his fingers flew across a control panel.

"I'm losing her! I'm losing her!" The boy shouted out. He quickly began typing away, toggling a control stick in attempt to hold onto a transportation mark. There was a frantic series of maneuvers and attempted restoration of a signal until- "No, I lost her…I lost her…I lost her".

The boy sank back in his chair, a despondent look now dawning his features. "I lost her…I lost her".

A fog passed over the memory as it slowly faded to black. Kirk became short of breath and he was suddenly flying forward through the darkness again.

He opened his eyes to find the Klingon base that he thought had been destroyed. He was in the main weapons room once more, and, as he looked to his left, he saw a glowing blue screen emitting from a console that read two minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

A shot rang out over his head and he ducked down in defense. As he looked towards where the projectile came from, he saw the same boy whose memories he'd just painfully travelled across fighting off what looked to be about 15 Klingons. He fought so valiantly; a phaser his only weapon as he cut down more and more enemies.

"Chekov!" Kirk cried out. Quite surprisingly, the kid's head turned towards him and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Keptin?" He shouted out in confusion. He quickly fired another shot towards an approaching Klingon before sprinting towards Kirk.

"Keptin, vhat are you doing here! You need to leawe now! Ze detonation sequence is actiwated!" He warned quickly. Kirk shook his head, securing a hand around Chekov's arm.

"I'm not going anywhere without you kid," he said. Kirk brought out his own phaser and fired three shots, each one hitting a Klingon who'd been running towards them. He began towing Chekov towards a staircase, and they began their ascent to the top of the room.

The metal catwalk they ran across was less stable than Kirk would have liked, but they followed it nonetheless. Once they were at the very top, and well ahead of any attacking enemies, Kirk sat down behind a metal divider that separated two walkways from one another. Chekov did the same, and he sat across from him as he attempted to catch his breath.

"Keptin, zhere isn't much time. Ze charges vill go off before you hawe the chance to-"

"Pavel, listen to me," Kirk interrupted, "this isn't real. None of it is. You're trapped inside your own memory and I need to get you out".

Chekov looked taken aback as he blinked in surprise. "Eet's…none of eet's real?" He asked.

Kirk shook his head. "Not one bit. You're already off this thing. You escaped. You're in medbay right now barely holding onto living because we can't wake you up".

Chekov breathed out deeply, most likely in an attempt to process everything he'd been told.

"I am…asleep?" He questioned.

"Something like that," Kirk replied, "you're hurt bad and unless I can get you to wake up…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. The realization already passed over Chekov's face as he shut his eyes in contemplation. The boy hesitated though, as if he was struggling to believe that the reality around him was fake. He must have still thought that he needed to save the ship by blowing up the base.

"Chekov look at me," Kirk spoke softly. Chekov looked up at him, eyes full of conflict and uncertainty. "You already saved the _Enterprise. _You saved everyone. I know it's hard to believe but none of this, _none of it, _is real. I need you to believe me, kid. It's the only way to get you out of here."

There was a moment where Kirk feared he hadn't gotten through, and that he'd lost his youngest friend forever, when Chekov let out a deep breath and nodded his head in understanding.

"Okay, Keptin," he said, "I beliewe you". Kirk let out a sigh of relief.

"I need you to close your eyes and tell yourself it's not real," he instructed, hoping what he was saying would work. "Tell yourself to wake up, that you're not actually here".

Chekov closed his eyes and breathed in, his face lax in concentration.

Just as the force of the explosion ripped through the base and the heat of it nearly touched his neck, Kirk felt the world waning around h

im. The scene dimmed into nothing and suddenly he felt himself spiraling backwards back into consciousness and out of the memory, the sensation of falling once again surrounding him.

* * *

Kirk's eyes snapped open in a rush as he gasped in air and fell backwards towards the ground. He felt arms secure around his own before he could hit the floor, and he was soon standing on his feet again.

"Jesus man! What happened in there?" Bones' voice reached his ears. Kirk looked to him, and saw that his face was filled with concern and worry. "You both started thrashin' like hell and then nothin'! Not a damn thing! We thought you were gone!"

Kirk was about to reply when a pain-laced gasp filled the air, and Chekov sat straight up in his bio bed, his eyes wide in surprise. It only took a second before his hand flew to his side and he cried out in pain, the blood still continuing to seep through his bandages.

McCoy was at his side in a moment, forcing him to lie back down and injecting him with what Kirk guessed was some form of sedative.

"Easy, kid, easy. You're okay now, just calm down," he spoke gently, a hand running through the boy's damp curls.

Chekov only remained awake for a little bit longer, before sleep claimed him, and Bones was able to begin properly repairing his wound.

"So I must conclude that you were successful in your endeavor?" Spock asked coolly, standing stoically by Kirk's side.

Jim nodded his head, glancing towards the now resting boy. "Almost thought it wasn't gonna work. He pulled through though. Kid's one hell of a fighter".

Spock nodded in agreement, before glancing at the communicator on the side of his belt.

"Perhaps it would be best to inform the rest of the crew of Chekov's stabilized condition," he suggested, "as Uhura and Mr. Scott have called down multiple times in an attempt to garner any more information on the situation at hand".

Kirk had nearly forgotten that none of the others knew what had been happening. He quickly grabbed his comm and headed out into the hallway, paging the bridge as he did so.

"Kirk to bridge," he called.

There was barely a second before Scotty's frantic, angry voice came shouting over the communicator.

"Aye, ya great bastard! What is this, that damned Vulcan keepin' all information on hold until he feels like it! I call down six times, six! And all I get is that you're tryin' to do bloody God knows what, while we're up here, waitin' to hear anything about what the hell might be goin' on!"

Kirk waited until the angered Scotsman finished, not wanting to risk being yelled at again.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's been a long day and Spock was just trying to keep everything under control".

"Under control!" Scotty yelled. "I should have the right mind to come down there and put that pointy-eared ninny in a-"

"Scotty!" Kirk let out an exasperated sigh. "Chekov's fine. He's in stable condition. McCoy's taking care of him now".

There was a slight pause, and the elated yelp that emitted over the other end of the communicator made Kirk smile.

"You hear that, Uhura. The laddie's gon to be just fine! Ha! Ah, I knew he'd pull through. Lad's a tough one. May be a bit wee, but he can handle anything!"

Kirk almost laughed at his friend's obvious joy. But a nagging feeling that something was wrong stopped him from doing so. He only just realized that someone was missing.

"Wait a second. Is Sulu up there with you?" Kirk asked. There was a pause.

"Afraid not. We thought he was down there with you," Scotty answered. Kirk's eyebrows creased in concentration. He vaguely remembered Sulu running from the bridge after the base had exploded; to where, well, he hoped he would guess right.

"I think I know where he's gone," Kirk said.

"Well good! Find em'. He needs to know that the lad's okay!"

"Will do," Kirk answered as he shut his communicator. He ducked his head into medbay, calling out McCoy's name.

"I need to find Sulu," he said, "I'll be back soon".

* * *

It didn't take long to reach the hallway that housed the command crew's quarters. Kirk stood outside Sulu's door ready to knock when he noticed that Chekov's door was slightly ajar.

He carefully made his way over and peered in, eyes attempting to adjust to the overbearing darkness. In the poor lighting the open door allowed, he could see Sulu leaning against a nightstand, surrounded by shattered glass and cradling his right hand, which Kirk quickly noticed was covered in blood.

"Shit," he cursed as he ran in towards the despondent man. He grabbed the nearest thing in his reach, one of Chekov's gold uniform shirts, and reached forth to wrap Sulu's hand. The shirt was soon covered in blood and Kirk reminded himself to get it replaced before the kid ran out of things to wear.

"What the hell happened?" He asked Sulu as he finished tying the makeshift bandage around his hand. The other man said nothing, only stared forward with red, tear-streaked eyes. Kirk grabbed his shoulders and made him look at him, only to be shocked at how…empty his eyes seemed to look. "Oh God, Sulu," he breathed. "Listen to me, Chekov's alive. He's down in medbay now. He escaped the base. Not without a few scratches but he's going to be okay!"

The look that flashed across Sulu's face was one of utmost surprise and overwhelming joy; one Kirk would never forget.

"He's…alive?" Sulu managed to ask. Kirk nodded his head in excitement, and the other man's eyes began brimming with tears. "Oh my god," he smiled. Kirk grabbed his arm and hauled him into a standing position. "I thought he was dead".

"We all did. But the little genius managed to sneak his way out of another mess," Kirk said lightheartedly. Sulu laughed, happiness now filling every part of him.

"Come on," Kirk nodded towards the door, "he's probably still knocked out from all that sedative Bones gave him, but you can still see him. Besides, we gotta get your hand fixed up, too". He decided to leave the cause of the injury alone. He knew when things needed to be talked about, and now just wasn't the time.

Sulu nodded in agreement, and they both began their way towards medbay.

* * *

McCoy was all but happy when he saw Sulu's injured hand. After giving him one of the best "don't talk about it now" looks he could manage, Kirk watched as Sulu made his way over to Chekov's bio bed, where the boy still lay sleeping. He'd asked to see him before he went to get his own injury fixed.

"I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried sick you know," he said softly. "Just hang in there. Everything's gonna be back to normal, and before you know it, I'll be teaching you all about fencing again". He smiled and placed his own hand over Chekov's. "Get better soon Pasha".

As Sulu walked towards an unoccupied bio bed, Kirk's eyes met Bones' and he nodded and smiled. Maybe, finally, things could start getting better.

* * *

All in all, it was about two weeks before Chekov was cleared for duty, much to the boy's annoyance. He'd declared himself healthy a week after the incident, but McCoy was having none of it. He made sure Chekov stayed right in his bed in medbay, but constantly let visitors in to occupy to the boy's rapidly changing attention span.

It wasn't too much of a surprise when Kirk found the kid sitting on the observation deck the night after he'd been released from medbay. He knew it was Chekov's favorite spot to come to, especially late at night. He walked in silently, careful not to startle the boy.

Chekov heard the man's footsteps and quickly turned round to face him.

"Keptin?" He asked, his eyes bleary from a lack of sleep. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times.

"Hey, kid," Kirk replied. "How ya feeling?"

Chekov partly lifted his shirt to reveal the bandaged scar that had once been an opened gash. It was healing very well from what Bones had told him. "Good. Zough it still hurts vonce in a vhile," Chekov admitted. Kirk nodded his head in sympathy.

"Don't worry. You'll start feeling better once that pain medication kicks in," he offered.

"Zat is vhat Doctoor McCoy told me," Chekov agreed. "Hopefully it vill be quick. I don't zink I cen take another hypospray of sedatiwes."

Kirk laughed, and the young boy before him smiled.

"They're a pain in the ass aren't they?" He asked, knowing to a full and detailed extent how awful McCoy's hypospray treatment could be.

"Wery much so," Chekov nodded, shivering at the thought of another injection.

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments, each one enjoying the other's company. Kirk was the first to break it.

"You know, with you being locked up in medbay for so long, I don't think I ever really got the chance to say thank you," he said.

Chekov averted his gaze and began playing with the sleeve of his shirt. He pursed his lips in contemplation. "Oh. It vas…it vas nozing. I vas only doing vhat I zought vas right," he stuttered in his response.

Kirk shook his head. "Be that as it may, you saved this entire ship and everyone on board. I wouldn't exactly call that nothing, kid". He hoped his words would get through to the boy, but they seemed to supply empty meaning. Kirk saw that Chekov had begun biting the bottom of his lip; something he would do when he got nervous.

"That's not all is it?" He questioned knowingly. "There's something else".

On the couch across from him, Chekov took in a deep breath and looked up, vibrant green eyes that looked so…scared, so sad. Kirk took the opportunity to walk over to him and sit, hands folded between his legs.

"Still feels like you're there doesn't it?" He spoke calmly. "Like it's about to happen again. At any given second".

Chekov rubbed his eyes again in an effort to keep them open. "I see eet ewery night," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm zere and eweryone's steell in danger and all I cen feel is scared".

He said the word "scared" as if it was shameful just to feel such a thing. Kirk put a reassuring arm around Chekov's shoulders, and the boy leaned into it, his head resting against the blonde's shoulder.

"What you did, while it was one of the most nerve-wracking and craziest things you've ever done, was still one of the bravest things I've ever seen anyone do. You are, and always will be a hero. I hope you remember that," Kirk said, meaning every word he spoke.

Chekov wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "Zank you, Keptin," he whispered.

Kirk rested his head against the back of the couch, his words reaching past his lips before sleep finally overcame him. "You're welcome, kid".

* * *

It was only a few hours before Kirk opened his eyes and checked the time. It was the middle of the night, just a little past two. To his right, Chekov lay peacefully snoozing against his shoulder, his curly hair in a mess and his arm draped across his stomach.

Kirk did his best to carefully stand up without waking Chekov, and retrieved a blanket from the opposite couch. He draped it gently over the boy, and whispered a small "Goodnight, Pavel" before taking up his own space on the couch opposite from him.

He looked over the Ensign, his small chest rising and falling in content as he slept. Kirk knew that the kid would be back to his old self in no time; of that he was sure. There wasn't a damned thing in this universe that could keep Pavel Andreivich Chekov from living a happy life the way he so loved; not one thing.

Kirk glanced out the observation window, which was full of starlight; the never-ending universe stretched out beyond its reach. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes and settled into a peaceful sleep.

The stars were shining brightly now; as they would be forever more.


End file.
